All The Kings Horses
by Foreign Nebula
Summary: HIATUS! Detective Drake is closing in on Annabelle Lennox's kidnapper while things at the UN aren't going as planned. Optimus and Ironhide are running out of leads, and it's only a matter of time before the Decepticons get wind of the Autobots fractured defences. Will the Autobots be able to save Annabelle, or will she become just another statistic?
1. 01: Kidnap

All The Kings Horses

**Summary: Annabelle has been kidnapped. Not by the Decepticons, but by a serial killer while in New York. Can Optimus as the other save her before she comes the next victim to New York's most wanted? **

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Like lots of other people, I wish I did... Or that they were real... The detectives mentioned in this belong to me. So does the plot. Please don't steal.

A/N: This is set roughly a year or so after _Revenge_, making Annabelle about three-and-a-half to four years old. Just a heads up! Please enjoy and review! Oh, and this hasn't been Beta-ed.

01: Kidnap

The truck that stood in front of her was magnificent. Custom paintjob of blue body and red flames. And it was very _shiny_. No matter how old she got, she would never get rid of her damn fascination to anything that sparkled, dazzled or _shined_ within a fifty yard radius. Maybe that's why she was so good at her job. She specifically looked for anything out of the ordinary (shiny or otherwise) that would help her crack her case wide open. Or finally close it.

Sighing in frustration, Detective Kherrington Drake ran a hand through her shoulder length brown hair, her brown eyes glaring at the Peterbuilt truck that stood almost too innocently in front of her.

It really was a magnificent truck. But it was distracting her from her job.

"Yo, Kerry!"

The young detective turned, frowning up at her partner. He was a taller than her, coming in at six-foot-four-inches, compared to her five-six, but was all muscle and nearly no brain. At least that was how the joke went. She was the brains, and he was the brawns, but when the going got tough, Kherrington would pull out her claws.

She had a feeling that today would be one of those days.

"What do you have, Mike?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. She restrained the urge to turn back around and admire the truck, instead keeping herself occupied by scoping out the third storey apartment above them.

The forty-five-year-old smiled, grey-green eyes twinkling. "Posner and Brahms are stationed on the other side of the building. Harold and Casey are covering the back. Uniforms are waiting for me out front so we can get this SOB."

Kherrington frowned. The guy they were about to bust supposedly had information on the identity of the man that all of New York wanted dead. Or caught. Preferably dead though. Joe Calzone had come forward several days ago with the hint of the identity of the Baby Doll Murderer, a sick and twisted individual who had already murdered three little girls, but only if they put him in witness protection due to his shady background.

She had pressed her boss to agree, what were a couple of the tax-payers money wasted if they caught the bastard, but he had declined, stating that Calzone would just be playing them for fools and would lead them on a wild goose chase while more girls were taken and killed.

That was until Olivia Carter had turned up in the harbour, just like Suzanne McKellar and Adrianne Heatherfield.

Now here they were, making sure that Calzone would get the Presidential treatment (in Mike's own words) and that they would hopefully get the lead they needed before the FBI came swooping in.

"Good. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can question Calzone and catch Him." She said, her fist clenching in anger. She wanted this done, and fast. She knew it was only a matter of time before Baby Doll kidnapped another little girl. Their time-frame was shrinking by the hour.

The older man nodded, turning to go but stopped. He faced the younger woman in front of him, marvelling at how at only twenty-five she had been handed one of the biggest cases in the last ten years. He knew that she was under a lot of pressure, hell, they all were, but if there was another body that turned up, it would be her head on a platter and a large kiss goodbye to her career in the force.

Michael Hale wasn't what you would call an intellectual man, but it was his dealings with death and murder on a daily basis that made him appreciate the finer things in life. He almost always went out on a limb to help his friends, even volunteering once or twice in a soup kitchen, but he knew whenever his partner was having a bad day and today was one of them.

He knew how hard she tried to get their captain to listen to her to get this information earlier, had been witnessed to the screaming match (the precinct was _still_ talking about it) and had inevitably been denied. She was devastated when Olivia had turned up.

"Kerry," the woman turned her head sharply, obviously in her own little world, "It's not your fault." He said, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "The Captain is going senile; you know that." He added with a smile, but it didn't meet his eyes.

Kherrington scowled, shrugging her shoulders. "We could have been one step closer to getting to Olivia before..." her voice trailed off, her eyes going glassy. She shook her head and uncrossed her arms. She ignored the look Mike was giving her, instead checking to make sure her gun and badge were secured to her smart black pants.

Mike threw his arms up into the air, sighing in frustration. "You're not the only one on this case Kherrington!" he hissed, turning his back and storming off, meeting with some of the uniformed police officers at the head of the alley.

_You're not the only one on this case_, she thought bitterly, knowing that he was only frustrated. They all wanted to catch the guy before another child was taken, but first they needed to get the information they so desperately needed.

Even if it did send them on a wild goose chase.

* * *

The auditorium was loud, numerous voices talking at once in thousands of different languages. The people around him yelled, sneered and stomped, reminding him of children fighting over who got to play with whatever toy first.

And he was the toy.

Shifting uncomfortably under their intense scrutiny, Optimus Prime glanced to the men sitting in a row beside him. The newely reinstated Secretary of Defence, John Keller, sat ridged beside him, grey eyes glaring out at the many different men and women whom represented the most influential nations of the world. Next to him was Captain William Lennox, arms crossed over his chest as he took glanced around the wide room.

At the podium in front of them, Sam Witwicky was trying to get a word in edge-wise, his hazel eyes darting frantically around the room to try an respond to questions that were being fired at him every which way. "Um, well – no, but," he sighed, closing his eyes in frustration, withholding the sudden urge to scream and throw things. Preferably a chair. At the Russian Ambassador's head.

Sensing his frustration only increasing, Optimus stood up, garnering the attention of the entire room. The holoform that Hound had created for him was definitely different to what he would have chosen, but it served its purpose. He was quiet tall, by human standards, six-and-a-half feet tall (as opposed to thirty feet) with a decent muscular build. Sam had once said that Optimus looked strong but not obnoxiously so.

The North Korean ambassador stood up, speaking quickly in his native tongue that even his interpreter was having a difficult time translating.

Breathing a sigh, Optimus pinned the angry ambassador with a his piercing blue eyes, his face devoid of any emotion. He stepped up next to the podium and gestured for Sam to sit down. The young man gave him a tired smile before all but running to take his seat next to Will. He turned and addressed the auditorium, his voice a deep baritone unlike his true voice. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he started, the angry, confused, and downright rude mutterings suddenly stopping at his voice. "I request that we adjourn this meeting for today. It is getting quiet late in the day and I am sure that many of you would like some time to digest the information that you have been presented with today." Without a word, he turned and motioned for the others to follow him off the podium, ignoring the sudden outraged cries that echoed behind them.

Sam quickly jogged up to his side, running a hand through this short hair. "Well," he started, grinning tiredly, "That went well."

Chuckling under his breath, Optimus nodded, heading towards the guarded elevators. The men nodded at him and his party as they waited patiently for the elevators to arrive.

Silence descended on the group even as they stepped into the black GMC Topkick in the garage of the UN New York Headquarters, the engine seeming to rev in greeting. "How'd it go?" a voice floated from the radio.

John snorted from his position in the back of the cab, arms folded angrily over his chest. "If we don't cause an international incident, we'll be lucky." Sam cringed beside him, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I thought they were taking it pretty well, besides all the swearing and screaming that is." The teenager mumbled, ignoring the way the Topkick seemed to shudder beneath him. "I'm just glad to be out of there." He sighed.

Optimus turned is his seat and smiled gently at him. "We'll have to do it again tomorrow." He said softly, trying vainly to hide his chuckle as Sam melted into his seat with a groan. He turned back around, folding his arms over his chest as he contemplated his next move. "If worse comes to worst, we'll leave the planet." He said finally, gaining the attention of the people and truck around him.

The squeal of tires from the sudden break jolted everyone forwards. Angry honks and curses indicated they were holding up the traffic behind them, but Ironhide didn't care. It was only when a swift kick by Will to his dashboard made him move again that he spoke. "Optimus! You can't be serious! Megatron is still alive and will no doubt want revenge!"

John, Will and Sam were giving him pleading looks. Optimus shook his head, trying to hide his suddenly gleeful smile. "I said we'll leave the planet," he repeated, turning to face the humans he had quickly become like a family to him, "But it doesn't mean we have to tell the UN that we'll come back."

It was silent for several seconds before all three humans started laughing in relief. Optimus couldn't help but laugh along with them.

"Who'd have thought that the Big Guy would have a sense of humour?" Will smirked, leaning back in his seat and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

Optimus grinned freely, looking out the window and watching the busy streets of New York City pass by.

"That wasn't very funny, Optimus." Ironhide grumbled, idling at a red light. "You nearly gave me a spark-attack. I was going to call Ratchet and Red Alert to come and give you a recalibration."

Frowning, Optimus looked at the radio. "What for?"

It was John who replied, a small smirk on his face. "Maybe for smacking your head all the time when you stand up?"

Sam and Will chuckled, revelling in the Autobot leaders embarrassment.

By some miracle, Optimus managed to withstand to urge to pout. "It's not my fault your building are too low." He replied petulantly. He sighed when all it got him was more chuckles at his expense. He was about to open his mouth and retort when he sat rigidly in his seat, his blue eyes growing unfocused.

Sensing the sudden change in his leader, Ironhide revved his engine, his sensors expanding to their fullest range: nearly all of New York City. "What is it Optimus?" he asked, wanting to drive faster but because of the peak-hour traffic was reduced to a crawl.

Coming back to himself, Optimus smiled sheepishly, running a hand nervously through his pitch black hair. "Nothing serious." He mumbled, and then dropped his holoform and returned to his real body, watching as a young-looking woman wearing black slacks, white blouse and matching black jacket scrambled over the hood of alt form, deadly looking gun flashing from its position beside her badge.

* * *

Pacing the alley in front of the truck, Kherrington couldn't help but release an angry sigh. She could hear the banter of her team-mates over the open radio connection that was plugged into her left ear, and wanted nothing more than to scream at them to focus on their jobs and look for anything suspicious.

Like a masked figure leaving Calzone's apartment via the fire escape.

Stopping her pacing, she swore a blue streak. "Suspect escaping via fire-escape!" she shouted into the cleverly disguised microphone around her neck, quickly checking to see how she would be able to get to the fire-escape without letting the guy out of her sight. Seeing no other alternative, Kherrington ran over to the truck and started scrambling over it, her kitty-heeled boots sliding once or twice over the waxed surface.

She tried to ignore the fact that she was scratching the custom paint, but she had bigger fish to fry. Over the radio her team-mates were exclaiming that they were on their way, but she knew that by the time they got to her, the masked figure would have been long gone. Mike, on the other hand, was cursing in Russian, saying how the door was barricaded and that they couldn't get in short of blowing down the door.

"This guy is not Calzone!" she yelled, reaching the top of the cab and tripping over the horn. She cursed, reaching forwards with her falling momentum and grabbed hold of the lowest railing of the fire-escape. She hauled herself up and over, ignoring the numerous scratches she was getting from the grilled and rusted metal. Not to mention her ruined manicure (but it wasn't like she had wanted it in the first place). "I am in pursuit!" she scrambled up the stairs, looking up at the figure who was on already three levels above her. She ripped out the radio from her ear and continued, her hand going to her gun.

As she neared the top of the building, she pulled her gun out from its holster, her blood thrumming with adrenalin. She could hear shouts coming from below her. "Don't do anything stupid, Drake!" Casey yelled, her green eyes worried. The middle-aged woman was the newest member to the team, but had the most experience when it came to serial killers.

Kherrington quickly looked down and nodded, watching as her two team-mates vanished out of the alley and back onto the street.

Heart beating fast enough she could hear it in her ears, she held the gun in front of her, her brown eyes glancing quickly over the brickwork of the building to the roof. It was sparse; a couple of old lawn chairs surrounded by wooden crates, empty beer bottle and butts of cigarettes. Slightly off to her left was the roof-top access that would be the perfect place to hide (other than jumping to the other building directly opposite her). She cautiously hopped over the final step, one foot in front of the other and made her way slowly to the roof-top access. Her suspect wouldn't have gone inside; it would be suicide to do that when there were police officers storming up the stairs.

A loud truck-horn bellowed from the alley, making her whirl around in time to see the masked man that had exited Calzone's apartment swing at her with a thick piece of wood. She dived to the side, dropping her gun in the meantime. Grunting as she rolled, she quickly glance up and dodged the next swing and jumped to her feet, sliding into a fighting stance that her brother had taught her once long ago.

The man stopped, eyeing her critically before moving suddenly to her right. He swung again with his weapon, missing Kherrington entirely, and it wasn't until the back of her knees his the wall of the building. Without her gun, the only thing that she could do was dodge and curse this bastards existence until she saw her gun lying oh-so-innocently on the blacktop just behind the man.

Sidestepping his sudden jab (he was changing his tactics, great) she swooped down and grabbed her gun, only to drop it once more when the board connected with the back of her head, a sharp cry ripping from her throat and she was seeing many different stars. She went down like a sack of potatoes, only vaguely hearing the angry shouts that came from behind the door. Thuds could be heard, but it wasn't until she was squinting from both the pain and trying to remember what it was that was going on that she realised that the door had been welded shut.

The sound of wood being thrown away echoed in her ears before she felt herself being picked up roughly... and then thrown over the side of the building.

* * *

Optimus watched with a little apprehension as the human female tripped over his air horn and climb unceremoniously over the railing to the fire-escape. There was another person on the fire-escape, clothed all in black with a ski-mask covering his face. He seemed to be on the run, and if he would have been in a position to do so, Optimus would have transformed and simply plucked the little slagger off the fire-escape and handed him over to the woman.

As it stood, he was reduced to watching in the side-lines.

The woman was yelling now, her brown eyes staring at the escaping man several stories above her. She didn't stop in her pursuit, her single-minded attitude reminding him of someone he had known a long time ago. She stopped near the top, crouching low with her hand holding the black magnum protectively in front of her.

Two human had quickly run around from the other side of the building, one an African-American man in his early thirties with a slightly heavy-set built (that reminded him of Glen, only older and more responsible) and the other a woman with flaming red hair and green eyes. "Don't do anything stupid, Drake!" the woman yelled, sighing in defeat when she saw the woman at the top of the fire-escape nod slightly. The two muttered under their breathes and ran out of the alley and onto the street.

Optimus would have shaken his head if he could. Instead, he settled for sighing quietly, watching as the Drake woman quickly hopped over the wall and surveyed her surroundings. Several seconds passed as she scouted the area, her gun held up in front of her with her pointing finger on her left hand resting on the metal above the trigger. She started to move to her left, towards the little building that would no doubt have the roof access when movement caught his attention.

The man that she had been chasing had somehow been hiding in the corner of the roof, away from his prying eyes. The man was sneaking up behind the woman, a thick plank of wood raised threateningly overhead, ready to inflict some type of damage.

Optimus didn't think when he sounded his horn, his spark telling him that he had to help out the woman or be witness to a murder.

The woman spun around, dodging just in time to miss her head be smashed in by her attacker and the two started a deadly dance that Optimus was itching to save her from.

He had been on this earth for several years now, watching the humans, protecting the humans, and slowly but surely starting to love the humans. They reminded him of how his life used to be before the war, reminding him almost constantly how similar the two races were.

This woman was obviously part of some kind of police force, helping the weak and helpless against something that would otherwise harm and destroy. In a way, Optimus and the woman were alike, protecting for the sake of protecting and punishing those who would wish to hurt.

He was shaken from his musings as the woman let out a cry after being struck in the head, something that would undoubtedly cause damage, he watching in horror as the man callously picked her up and threw her over the side of the building.

He made up his mind in a split second, keeping one optic on the man as he turned from the side of the building and ran. Transforming in record time, Optimus caught the falling woman gently in the palms of his hands, optics quickly scanning her for other injuries. She had a lump on the back of her head that would cause her discomfort, but didn't seem to be suffering from any type of concussion.

Her brown eyes were slightly dazed, but they looked up at him with curiosity and a little bit of wonder. She said nothing, laying pliant in his hands as if afraid to move. Awareness seemed to seep into her eyes suddenly and they grew wide, out of fear or something else he wasn't sure, but at that moment a chorus of yells from the top of the building gained his attention. Gently placing her down on the ground, he gave her one last glance before transforming into his alt mode and was about to leave when a small voice reached his audios.

"Wait! Please..." Kherrington didn't know what was going on. She was beyond confused and her head hurt like a mother... but what she did know, was that she should be a pancake on the alley floor.

Only she wasn't.

She had been caught by a giant..._Robot_... and here she was, standing (albeit shakily) on her own two feet, staring at the truck with the custom paintjob that had transformed. Maybe she had been hit harder than she thought.

"Kherrington!"

Snapping her head up to the open window of Calzone's apartment, Kherrington fought down the sudden nausea it caused and leaned against the grimy wall of the alley, ignoring that she was getting her clothes disgustingly dirty. "I'm right here, Mike." She said tiredly, pushing herself off the wall and trying not stumble. The darkness at the corners of her eyes suddenly flared to life and she shook her head, refusing to succumb to something as stupid as passing out.

The man scowled down at her, an angry retort coming to his lips before he saw her stumble slightly. "I'll be right down." He said, clambering out of the window and making his way down the fire escape. He jumped on the bottom ladder to make it move down, subconsciously wondering how his partner had managed to get to the top of the building without its use, but brushed it aside and quickly jumped to the alley below with a little more than an 'oomph!' of discomfort.

He stared at his partner, noticing that she was covered in dirt and dust, indicating that she had been in some kind of tussle. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, suddenly angry again.

Kherrington meanwhile was staring at the robo-truck, breathing through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. She wanted to ask questions, or in the very least thank whatever the hell it was that caught her, but her partner had put a stop to that. She turned slowly to her partner, a scowl on her own face. "The guy got away." She glared, not sure what she was feeling. "We got into a fight and he clocked me."

Mike on the other hand was staring at Kherrington. "Calzone's dead. Someone got to him before we did." He said, watching his partner closely. If her swearing streak was anything to go by, Mike knew she was not happy. Hell, we wasn't too happy either; at both his partner and the fact that their only lead was dead.

"Son of a bitch!" Kherrington suddenly screamed, wanting very badly to kick something. "Son of a bitch!" she said again, softer this time.

This case was getting to be too much for her. They had no leads, she had been attacked by the same guy that had undoubtedly killed Calzone and she had just been rescued by a giant, transforming robot. She had a gut feeling that things could only get worse.

Detective Angela Casey ran around the corner, her face paler than it usually was. Her green eyes were worried, almost frantic. "Another one!" she panted, coming to a stop in front of the truck and resting against it slightly. "He's taken another little girl!"

Mike swore harshly, kicking the closest thing within reach: the back tire of the truck.

Kherrington knew that she should have said something, at least felt a little sympathy for the robot _thing_, but with the news that her serial killer had taken another little girl was just another straw closer to breaking the camel's back.

But she'd be damned if she didn't take down the sick son of a bitch first.

* * *

Optimus watched as the three humans left the alley, Kherrington casting a last glance backwards before following her teammates. She was strangely subdued, her brown eyes cold, almost emotionless.

The events of the last few minutes had lasted seemingly an eternity. He had witnessed the woman be attacked by someone she obviously wanted to help her solve a case, subsequently saved her from certain death, and had inevitably revealed his true form to her... only stare at each other almost dumbly before they were interrupted by her teammate.

He still didn't understand why he listened to her, why he didn't just leave when he still had the chance. Would she have said thankyou? It looked like she was the type of person to ask questions first, but from behind the relative safety of her gun... Which she had left on the roof.

Watching as the humans hurriedly left, he transformed and glanced onto the roof, seeing the black metal glinting at him he reached over and picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, secretly marvelling at how such a small weapon could so easily kill human. He quickly slipped it into a compartment in his thigh before transforming into his alt mode and made his way out onto the road.

While his holoform had been at the UN, trying to gain their trust, he had hidden his body in the back alleys of city, in hopes of remaining 'low-key'. At least, that had been the plan until Kherrington and her unit had arrived.

Venting air in a sigh, Optimus opened his communications channel, feeling slightly guilty that he had left his friends and comrades out of the loop. It wasn't surprising when Ironhide started cursing his name out in several different languages, up to and including Cybertronian.

::_**Where in the name of **_**Pit**_** have you been?**_:: Ironhide's voice growled in his processor, making him flinch slightly.

_**::**_**There was a human climbing all over me. Turns out she was after a felon.::** Optimus replied, picking up on the sobs of a woman in the background. **::Ironhide, what is going on? Is that Sarah crying?::**

Ironhide growled threateningly, a few choice curses coming over the connection. But it was Ratchet that replied, his Chief Medical Officer startlingly calm. **::**_**We have a situation here, Optimus, and if you would keep your comm. on then you would know that in the last forty-five minutes, Annabelle has been kidnapped**_**.::**

In hindsight, Optimus was grateful that he was not on a busy road to cause a large accident. He broke hear, his back wheels fish-tailing slightly on the wet asphalt from the earlier rains. He dinged several cars, but only slightly, and when he realised what he had done, he shifted gear and was off as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. His processor was in overdrive as he realised how desperate the situation had become.

**::Who is taking responsibility for this? Is it one of the Nations who want to extort us?::** Optimus asked, heading towards the nicer part of the city where he knew his team was waiting for him.

There was silence on the channels, almost as if no one wanted to tell him the truth. Finally, after he vented air in frustration, Arcee, who was trying to comfort Sarah, answered him. **::It's worse than that, Optimus.::** She said softly, and a shudder of fear entered his spark. **::It was the Baby Doll Killer, Optimus.::**

He was silent, processing slowly what it was that Arcee had told him. He had heard of the Baby Doll Killer, both on the news and the radio.

The entire city of New York was up in arms over the disappearance and subsequent murders of three little girls in the past two weeks. The latest little girl to turn up had only appeared yesterday, but it had the killer's modus operandi all over it. Each little girl would be snatched from the crowd with a black and pink satin bow found tied around a lamp post near to the location of where the little girl had disappeared. Then three days later the little girls would turn up at seemingly random spots around the city in a large cardboard boxes, dressed up like little dollies with their faces painted and hair curled perfectly.

The guy had been nicknamed the Baby Doll killer because of how he left his victims.

And now he had Annabelle.


	2. 02: Tick Tick

_**All The Kings Horses**_

_**O2: Tick, Tick...**_

**X**

**x**

**X**

**_EDIT 5/FEB/2011_:**_ Some slight adjustments made. Nothing too major._

**::Bold:: **comm. link.

_Italics_ - thought.

**X**

**x**

**X**

Shock had well and truly settled in to all of the Autobot team. The youngest of their family had been taken; not by the Decepticons that they had originally feared, but by a psychopath with a penchant for little girls.

None of them had anticipated for something like this; granted, they knew that the human species weren't perfect, but it was always a case of 'It will never happen' when it came to hearing about stories of murder and kidnapping. Especially when the girl in question had twenty-foot robot guardians surround her twenty-four-seven.

Pacing in the lobby of the hotel in which they were staying, Ironhide glared at the large revolving doors, wanting nothing more than to scare off the vultures of the paparazzi that crowded the outside of the building. The city's police were keeping them out in a vain attempt at getting any more information leaked out.

It was bad enough that they came swooping in not an hour after Annabelle had been taken.

Running a hand angrily through his light, buzz-cut hair, Ironhide glanced once more out of the glass doors, hiding the wince as camera flashes continued to go off. "Where in the Pit is he?" he muttered, checking his internal chronometer for what felt like the hundredth time.

Optimus had fallen silent when he had learned of the situation at hand, but leaving his comm. channel open. Ironhide knew that the Leader of the Autobots was feeling guilty, it was in his nature to take the blame when something went wrong, but he knew that it wasn't his fault that a predator had targeted Annabelle. From the information that he was able to hack into from the police reports, this Baby Doll Murderer took little girls between the ages of three and five with blonde hair and brown eyes. He almost always snatched them from busy places with plenty of people to provide cover. Unfortunately, Annabelle fell directly into that category when she and her mother had been near a busy intersection on their way back to the hotel.

The paparazzi outside suddenly grew louder, reporters and photographers screaming out questions to the trio of people who were pushing their way through the onslaught of media.

Ironhide watched as the younger woman visibly paled when a particularly nasty looking reporter in a smart suit sneered at her as she was entering the doors. "Shall we arrange the funeral for Lennox, Detective Drake?"

One of the two men that were travelling with the woman gently pushed her forward while the other turned slightly and growled a warning to the man. "Your charges haven't been dropped yet, Avery."

The suit-wearing paparazzo's smirked lessened, his face paling slightly before he turned to his cameraman and indicated with his hand to stop recording.

He watched as the three entered the lobby and walked passed him, all subdued with their thoughts. They went up to the front desk, flashing police badges and grim faces. The grey haired receptionist nodded her head and muttered to them in a low voice. They nodded their heads in turn, the female detective saying something before turning and heading to the elevator. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, they talked quietly to themselves, and not even his enhanced audios could pick up on what they said.

Just as the doors were opening, a tall red haired woman ran into the lobby from outside, her badge flashing from her hip. She skidded into the elevator, slamming into the smaller woman and causing the two males with them to laugh tiredly.

"Ironhide."

Nearly dropping his holoform, the weapons specialist whirled around, an angry retort leaving his lips in Cybertronian. "You nearly gave me a spark attack, Optimus." He huffed, indicating to the closing doors of the elevator. "The detectives are here to interview Sarah."

Optimus nodded silently, catching a glimpse of the woman he had rescued earlier. She had quickly changed into a new set of clothes: a red long-sleeved blouse tucked in to the waist-band of her new dark grey pants. She wore a black leather jacket to keep out the cold that had started to set in with the setting of the sun. Kherrington Drake looked for all intents and purposes like a woman on a mission, which made Optimus glad that she was on the case, despite her age.

Ironhide made to go after them, but Optimus held him back, indicating with his head to follow him passed the elevators and towards the stairs hidden around the corner. "I've intercepted a communications from the FBI that says they are getting ready to send out two men to take over the case." He mumbled to Ironhide, starting to walk up the stairs.

Ironhide followed mutely, wondering why they were taking the stairs (which would take them, if he calculated right, ten minutes to reach their floor) but held his tongue, knowing that his leader was hinting at something.

"I've already spoken with the Keller and he agrees that it would be better for the two of us to pose as FBI agents while we work with the Detectives on getting Annabelle back. This case has been too highly publicised to hunt down this serial killer without repercussions. We either do it this way, or we let the humans solve the case, and we both know that they are no closer to solving this thing than they were before Annabelle disappeared." Optimus finished, glancing back at his Weapons Specialist and gauging his reaction.

To say that Ironhide was flabbergasted would have been an understatement. Here was his commanding officer, expecting him to pretend to be a 'squishy' and work with the local police force to retrieve Annabelle, all the while being civil and adhering to the human laws.

It was almost like inviting Megatron over to share some coffee and cake.

For Ironhide, sitting still was not in his programming. He was a warrior mech; made for shooting first and letting someone else ask the questions further down the line. To do something like this was going against what all his instincts were screaming at him to do: rip the city apart with his bare hands until he found the slagger who had taken the human sparkling that had unwittingly wormed her way into the Autobots sparks.

But it was one look from Optimus and he knew that it was because of his connection with Annabelle that Optimus wanted him to pretend to be what he wasn't: patient and problem solving without the use of his cannons.

Taking the steps two at a time, Ironhide growled low in his throat. "I'm only doing this because of Annabelle." He said gruffly, grey blue eyes watching the Autobot commanders face as they started to move faster up the stairs. "And why did we take the stairs?"

Optimus blinked and smile sheepishly, looking quickly over at Ironhide. "So I could have some time to convince you of the plan."

Ironhide could only glare.

**X**

**x**

**X**

As the doors to the elevator closed around them, Kherrington couldn't help but glare at the woman beside her. As much as she loved working with Angela, the woman was a walking jinx. She could trip over her own shadow and cause half the city to lose power, all in one go. She was a klutz, but it was her brains and attention to detail that made her sought after in the homicide field.

But it didn't surprise her that the woman was only thirty-three years old and still single.

Sighing, Kherrington rubbed her temples in frustration, feeling the headache from earlier (or it could simply be a combination of little-to-no sleep in over twenty-eight hours and the whack to the head earlier that afternoon).

When the call had come in that another little girl had been taken – _Annabelle Marie Lennox; age: 3 years, 8 months; description: curly blonde hair, brown hair; height (approx.): 3 feet – _Kherrington's heart had felt like it had been ripped out from her chest and crush under the heel of the disgusting creature that was doing this to the little girls of her city.

She had decided to take three of her team with her to interview the witnesses and family members of Annabelle, and visit the crime scene later instead. There would be nothing new, like always; too much DNA contamination from the hundreds upon thousands of people who walked the crime scene and too many different stories that would just lead them in circles. She had charged a junior member of the team to take photos of the crime scene anyway, confident that the up-and-coming officer would take care of her crime scene until she arrived there.

So absorbed in her thoughts, she failed to notice how the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opening with a ding. Angela looked at her strangely, nudging her shoulder slightly and indicating with her head that it was their stop. Shaking her head she followed.

Stepping out from the elevator, Kherrington steeled herself for one of the hardest parts of her job. It was the gut-wrenching tears of the mother that always got to her, the stoic face of the fathers always putting her slightly on edge. Beside her was Mike and another man from her team, Ethan Posner, a slightly heavy-set African-American man but was more muscle than anything else. They walked in silence down the hallway, flanked on one side by floor-to-ceiling windows over-looking Central Park while hotel rooms ran the length of the walls on their other.

In front of them was a uniformed officer leaning against the wall just beside an open door that lead in to the room they were looking for. An eerie silence seemed to ooze from the suite, making Kherrington shiver subconsciously. She nodded to the officer, stepping into the entrance hallway of the expensive suite and immediately came face to face with a very crowded room of people ranging in different heights and ages.

They all wore blank faces, eyes staring off into the distance and in their own little worlds. There were six people in all, a young looking couple sitting on the couch, a twenty-something looking woman and an older looking man were talking in hushed tones by the window while the other two stood near the bar, each holding a mug of what she guessed to be either coffee or some form of liquid courage.

The woman and her friend stopped talking, their gazes looking directly at the detectives as they entered the room.

The woman had brunette hair, pulled loosely into a bun at the nape of her neck with thick strands falling into her piercing blue-green eyes. She frowned, her eyes seeming to glaze over before she blinked rapidly, her mouth forming a small 'o' of what Kherrington recognised as surprise. She walked over, her long legs eating up the distance separating the detectives and the rest of the small group of people.

"Do you have news?" she asked, her hands hanging limply by her sides.

Kherrington examined the woman standing before her, noticing slightly that she had a military swagger. She stood taller than Kherrington, and held herself alert for any kind of threat; it was something that she recognized in herself, after years on the job and after the incident...

She cleared her throat softly, nodding her head sadly. The woman seemed to deflate slightly, her blue-green eyes dropping to the floor. "My name is Detective Kherrington Drake. These are my partners Detectives Michael Hale, Ethan Posner and Angela Casey." She said quietly, noticing that the others in the room were starting to take notice of them.

The woman looked back up at her, nodding her head slightly. "My name is Rory Cast, or Arcee for short. Sarah is in the bedroom with Will," she said, indicating to a hallway on the other side of the room that was partially hidden behind a large potted plant. "I was with Sarah when we realised that Annabelle was missing."

Kherrington nodded her head. "Detective Hale can take your statement, Miss Cast. Was there anyone else with you and Mrs Lennox at the time of Annabelle's kidnapping?" she asked.

"Just Mikaela. She was on the other side of the street, waiting for us to cross the road." Arcee indicated her head to the young, dark haired woman that was slowly untangling herself from the secure hold of what Kherrington assumed to be her boyfriend. Her green-hazel eyes were red and puffy from crying.

Posner stepped passed Kherrington, indicating that he would take her statement.

Arcee sighed softly, crossing her arms over her chest. "This whole things is a mess." She muttered darkly, shooting a filthy look out of the darkening window.

The sun had started to set, the grey sky outside turning purple and red with the waning of dusk. It marked the third hour of Annabelle's disappearance.

Angela shifted beside her, reaching into her jeans pocket and pulling out the notebook that she always kept there. "We should really interview Mrs Lennox." She said softly, her voice slipping back into her Irish roots.

Nodding, Kherrington motioned for Mike to start Arcee's interview while she and Angela went to the bedroom. They were just about to step around the pot plant that blocked the view of the dark hall to the bedrooms, when a commotion outside of the hotel suite made Kherrington and Angela freeze. Heated voices caused the entire room to fall into a hush, eyes turning to the two figures as they entered into the main living quarters of the expensive suite.

The men were both very different in physical appearances, almost impossible to compare the two like the sun and moon, but the way they carried themselves, and the way that they dressed made the bottom of Kherrington's stomach drop to somewhere passed her feet.

Almost immediately following that, her heart sank. Cursing inwardly, she squared her shoulders and walked slowly over to the men, a cold smile appearing on her face as she sized up her competition. Her partners, who had already started their interviews had stopped as soon as the men had entered the room, their eyes widening at the sudden change in her attitude. They knew what she was capable of if ticked off, and with the arrival of these men, her claws would most certainly come out.

"Detective Drake?" the taller of the two asked, looking to be in his early-to-mid-thirties. His black (almost blue, she noted remotely) hair was cut short to his head, which complimented his piercing blue eyes. His face was angular, with high cheekbones and what she could only describe as a 'manly' nose made him quiet handsome. He had broad shoulders, and looked fit enough to take on the bad guys.

The man behind him stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, looking very unhappy. He was a head or so shorter than his partner (but still taller than Kherrington) and had a more rugged air about him. He looked more of a military type, with buzz-cut blonde hair and hazel eyes that glared around the room. He was the muscle of the duo, she thought, noticing the muscles in his arms flex with tension.

They were both dressed in the dark suit uniform of the FBI, marking them as the federal agents that would completely ruin her case instead of solve it.

"Yes." She ground out, turning her brown eyes back to the Agent that had spoken. She ignored the soft smile that grew on his face, and the hidden glint that sparkled in his eyes.

Her blood froze in her veins when she spotted the dimple that appeared in his left cheek. _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_, she thought stupidly, viciously fighting the urge to blush like a silly high-school girl. Oh, how Angela is going to have a field day.

The Agent reached into his pocket before speaking, pulling out an official looking badge and showing it to Kherrington and Angela as she joined them. There was a tiny grin on the older woman's face as she first looked at the man and almost instantly spotted the dimple, and then quickly glanced to her team leader. Kherrington glared at the red head, imagining creative ways in which she could embarrass the insufferable woman. "My name is Agent Optimus Prime, and this is my partner Agent Anthony Hyde." He quickly put the badge back in his pocket, his blue eyes taking in the rooms occupants. "We are here to help you on your case."

A thousand different retorts flew around Kherrington's brain at that point. If she would have been in entirely different situation, she would have commented on his strange name, but since events of her passed had changed her, she held her tongue. Other thoughts were violent and rude, but in the end, she decided on being indifferent. She grit her teeth together, ignoring the elbow that Angela had discreetly dug into her side. "Well, you know who I am. These are my partners Detectives Michael Hale, Ethan Posner," she nodded to the men who had resumed their interviews with the witnesses, glancing at them from the corners of their eyes now and then, "And Angela Casey."

Optimus nodded his head, ignoring the glances that the humans in the room were sending him. Just before he and Ironhide had entered the room, he had warned Jolt and Arcee of what he and Keller had decided to do. All in all, they weren't too happy, much like Ironhide was, but they understood that when it came to Annabelle, it would be better to have someone on the inside, rather than becoming vigilantes and possibly getting the girl killed. Sam, Mikaela and Epps were sending him the strangest looks, still trying to understand what it was that was going on.

"We need you to brief us on the case so far." Ironhide said suddenly, uncrossing his arms and standing next to Optimus.

Kherrington blinked, surprised at how gruff his voice was. "I'm in the middle of an interview, Agent Hide. One of my officers can escort you down to Precinct, but your debriefing can wait until then." She snapped, surprised at herself.

The man growled slightly, about to open his mouth and retort angrily when his partner placed a placating hand on his shoulder. "Hide, I think it would be best if you went with one of the Detectives and look over the evidence and the case file."

Blinking in surprise, Kherrington watched as the Agent gruffly nodded and turned to leave. When no one made a move to leave with him, he scowled. "Well?" he said suddenly, arms crossed over his chest once again.

Turning to Angela, she indicated with her head to the gruff FBI agent. "Go with Agent Hide. You can brief him on what we know so far." She added softly.

Angela frowned, glancing at Ironhide and then back to Kherrington. "I better get a Starbucks in return." She muttered under her breath, flipping her notebook shut and slipped it back into her pocket. She waved a quick goodbye to her partners and raced out the door after Ironhide.

Kherrington sighed tiredly, running a hand through her hair. Prime stepped up next to her, shocking her slightly at tall he was compared to her. He glanced down at her, blue-blue eyes seeming to pierce right into her very soul and examine her from the inside out. She shivered, blinking quickly and turning her head away from his face.

"I believe we have some interviews to finish." Optimus said, indicating with his head to the hall in which the bedroom door was just opening. Two people walked out, a blond haired woman and a tall man, both wearing identical looks of terror on their faces.

They took one look at the two law enforcers and froze, their eyes widening. The man had an arm around the woman's shoulders, the woman visibly shaking and repressing her tears. They each took a steady breath and returned to the bedroom, indicating the two of them to follow after them.

Optimus motioned for Kherrington to go first, the woman giving him a strange look in return. "I thought chivalry was dead." She mumbled, before turning her head away, her cheeks glowing a pink as he chuckled. He followed after her, entering the bedroom. He closed the door gently behind him and leaned against it, willing to give the reigns of the interview to the proper detective.

Kherrington cast Optimus a strange look, wondering what the Agent was up to. Shrugging mentally, she pulled a chair away from the computer table and put it slightly in front of Mrs Lennox, sitting down quickly and starting the interview. "I understand that this is a shock, Mrs Lennox," she started, watching as the slightly older woman blinked glazed eyes at her.

Sarah shook her head, staring into her lap and frowning. "I honestly don't really believe it myself, just yet." She said softly, finally looking up at Kherrington. "I expect Annabelle to just run around the corner with Arcee chasing after her and scream out surprise." She added with a small smile, chuckling quietly.

"Alright Mrs Lennox, I need you to tell me in your words what happened in the moments before you realised that Annabelle was missing?" Kherrington said, pulling a small pen out from one of her pockets and getting ready to make notes.

Frowning, Sarah tilted her head to the side. The man that sat beside her, a Captain William Lennox, wrapped an arm around her shoulders in comfort, his head leaning against her temple. His lips brushed her cheek in encouragement, a display of affection and strength in such trying times.

Kherrington wished that she had had someone to do that for her when her brother –

"Sarah," the woman sighed, reaching up and hand and patting her husband's cheek. "Mrs Lennox is my mother-in-law." She smiled slightly, not quiet reaching her brown eyes. "We had just spent the day in the park."

"Who's we?"

"Arcee, Mikaela, Annabelle and myself. We were packing up and getting ready to leave." She frowned, almost as if remembering was starting to become difficult. "Mikaela went ahead of us to get dinner ready for the us and the boys and it was just Arcee, Annabelle and me. Bella wanted a hot dog and we got into a small argument."

"Bella?" Kherrington asked, pausing in her writing. She knew it had to have been a pet name for the young girl, but she needed to hear it from Sarah's lips.

"It's her pet name." It was Will who answered, looking first to Kherrington and then to Optimus who stood against the door behind her and out of her line of sight.

Nodding her head to see that she understood, she motioned for Sarah to continue.

"Eventually we settled for a compromise. No dessert if she got the hot dog. We went to the vendor who was at the corner of the park near the road. Arcee thought that the price was too expensive and she started haggling. I was trying to tell her that the price was fine and to leave it alone." Sarah stopped talking, her breath suddenly hitching in her chest. "I only took my eyes off of her for one second. One second." She said, a sob escaping her throat.

Footsteps echoed on the dark hardwood floor, indicating that Optimus had moved from his position against the door. Turning in her seat, Kherrington watched as the tall man knelt down in front of the distraught woman and reached out for one of her hands.

"It is not your fault that this has happen to Annabelle, Sarah. It was an opportunity that this sick human was looking for and he took it." He said in his deep voice, his blue eyes burning fiercely into Sarah's own. "Never think otherwise. You did not know that this would happen. We'll get Annabelle back before you know it, Sarah, that I promise you."

If it wouldn't have been unprofessional, Kherrington would have let her jaw drop open. She was shocked that the Agent could promise something so callously. It was one of the very first things that you were taught in training: _**never give the family false hope and promises**_. He had just broken that cardinal rule.

Granted, it was something that she herself had done time and again.

And she had broken it three times.

"I would sooner die than let this psychopath hurt Annabelle." Kherrington interjected, getting a raised eyebrow from the Agent. She ignored him.

"What if he's already done something to her?" Sarah whispered in the sudden dead silence.

Kherrington sat frozen in her chair, her mouth running dry. What if... what if he had already hurt Annabelle to past the point of being rescued. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she started to face the reality that maybe, just maybe, her killer could be changing his MO. He had only just dumped the body of Olivia yesterday, there should have been a two day reprieve. He was escalating this too far and it was scaring her more and more to the fact Annabelle could very well end up the next victim.

"He wouldn't have done that, Sarah. It's not how he operates. Annabelle will be safe for a little while longer, and when we find him, she'll still be safe and sound." Optimus glanced to Kherrington who had suddenly gotten pale. He quickly scanned her, noticing her increased heart rate and anxiety. He wasn't too shocked to see that her stress levels were through the roof, nor the fact that she was underweight and not getting the proper vitamins.

Kherrington quickly looked to Optimus and nodded mutely, her tongue slowly ungluing itself from her roof of her mouth. She needed to hear those words that had come from his mouth, needed to hear him remind her that even if their killer had sped things up, they had now approximately three days to get to Annabelle before she was his next victim.

In the meantime, she needed to focus on getting a lead.

**X**

**x**

**X**

Ironhide was not, as Sam would say, a very happy camper.

The bullpen, as the Decetives had called it, was technologically insignificant to be completely honest. They were on the fourth floor of the Precinct, sitting at tables towards the left-hand side of the room next to large windows overlooking a construction site and an office building. The tables seemed to be in clusters indicating certain teams; there were four clusters in total, the last grouping that he was sitting in was by far the largest, consisting of six tables as opposed to the regular three.

The room itself was slightly cluttered, scuffed hardwood floors indicated the regular amount of foot traffic, but it was in one place that if seemed to be more worn than any other. Along one wall and blocking out a window was a large whiteboard nailed into the frame with several other smaller ones on wheels lined up on either side of it. Different coloured markers and pictures graffitied the white surfaces, listing names, dates, and timelines.

Angela had called it a Murder Board.

Almost as soon as they had walked into the bullpen, Angela had thrust several inch-thick files on each of the murdered little girls into Ironhide's arms and indicated him to side down at the cleanest table he could find (which was difficult, considering the amount of paperwork and reports and _files _that littered each and every desk in the room). He had finally elected to sit at a table that was only half covered by paper, a small golden plaque stating that the desk belonged to a Detective Brahms.

Angela had explained to him where they were in the case, with a few good curses thrown into the mix, and that the rest of their team was at the crime scene taking photos and getting evidence. Due to the important nature of the case, their evidence was able to be fast-tracked in the lab, but they still needed to wait for the results. Then she had soon disappeared into the break room after debriefing Ironhide and hadn't returned since.

That had been nearly two hours ago and Ironhide had already committed the entire case to his memory banks. He knew that BD (as the Detectives had started to refer to him as) kidnapped little girls between the ages of three-to-five with blonde hair and brown eyes. He knew that he kidnapped them from crowded areas and left a black and pink ribbon tried around an inanimate object, that that he held onto the little girls for nearly four days before dumping the girls. And then the cycle would begin again two days afterwards.

But little Olivia had appeared yesterday, meaning that BD was getting impatient and aggressive. They only had three days to act (less than that, he thought to himself, because if they didn't get a lead soon, he would make good on his threat and tear the city apart) and get Annabelle back before...

Ironhide shuddered at the thought. He didn't want to think of little Annabelle being something other than alive.

**::Prime to Irohide::**

Grumbling under his breath, Ironhide zoned out, his eyes glazing over. **::Yes, sir?::** he replied on his comm. channel.

**::How are you on the case?::** Optimus asked, worry clear in his voice.

Huffing slightly, Ironhide sent Optimus a data burst of everything that he knew about the case that he had just spend the last two hours poring over. **::They have no leads. I don't understand why we don't do things our way.::** He groused, wishing he could blow something up with his cannons.

**::You know as well as I do that the situation would only just get worse. This 'BD' wouldn't hesitate in hurting Annabelle if and when he finds out who it was that he had in his grasp. We will work on this case, **_**in disguise**_**, and work together with the Detectives.::** His commanding officer continued sternly, his authority ringing with every word he spoke.

**::Yes, sir.::** Ironhide grinded his reply, cutting off his communication to Optimus. He knew that if he continued to talk with him that he would say (or rather do) something that would get him into deep water. He was just so angry and frustrated that something like this could have happened; hadn't they suffered enough with the War?

Primus must have been making fun of them by throwing such hardships their way.

He came back to his holoform just as a uniformed officer was escorting a man middle-aged in a smart suit passed his desk and towards the one that was the most messiest of the entire bullpens. His grey eyes held a deep sadness, with an underlying hint of bitter anger. The officer nodded to a chair besides the desk, indicating for him to sit down. The man sunk almost gratefully into the stiff chair, his hands fiddling with the golden locket that he had wrapped around his left wrist.

Ironhide ignored him, instead turning to try and decipher the white boards and all their multicoloured words when the ding of the elevator alerted his attention and he turned around in time to see the female detective and Optimus walk stiffly into the bullpen. They were talking in hushed, clipped tones, but she abruptly stopped when her eyes landed on the man that was sitting at the cluttered desk.

**X**

**x**

**X**

Whenever she was feeling sad or scared (which only happened when there was a really big thunderstorm, or she had seen a creepy-crawly) Uncle Hide would take her in his arms and hold her close. Her Aunty Arcee and 'Romia would sing her lullabies until the storms would pass or she would fall asleep. Her Uncle Hound liked to create different animal holograms that would take her mind off of whatever it was that was troubling her or scaring her.

Uncle Ratchet and Wheeljack were just strange, often tripping over themselves to keep her entertained or try and explain something that she would have no idea what it was they were talking about in the first place. She guessed that they were the crazy uncles that every family had.

Her Uncle Bumblebee would quote famous movies and sing her, her favourite songs while jumping around with her wrapped up tightly in his arms as they danced around the room. Her Uncle Sam was often roped into their shenanigans while Aunty 'Kaela stood to the side and shook her head.

But it was her Uncle Op (she _still_ couldn't say his full name no matter how hard she tried) was her favourite Uncle. He would tell her the greatest stories about alien robots who fought evil robots and protected her home with the help of some special humans. She always liked his stories, especially the ones about a female robot called Elita-1 and some of the funny things that she got up to.

Frightened eyes darted around the box she had been roughly pushed into, the tears silent as they slipped down her cheeks. Right now she wanted her mummy and daddy. She wanted them to hold her and sing to her and make everything alright.

She wanted to go home and see all her Aunties and Uncles and play games and sing songs and-

The lid to the box was suddenly lifted off, revealing a shadowed face looming above her.

Annabelle Lennox whimpered in fear as the man who had snatched her away from her mummy leaned into the box and picked her up. He had a scary smile on his face as he stared at her. That was all he was doing.

She was about to open her mouth and ask her where her mummy was when he started to rip at her clothes and she couldn't stop the scream that tore from her throat.

**X**

**x**

**X**

Kherrington could feel her face pale as she stared at the man sitting calmly at her desk.

She knew who he was, had seen him on a day-to-day basis for the passed week and she couldn't help but wish that she was somewhere else right about now.

Herman Heatherfield stood up slowly, his eyes watching as Kherrington slowly came closer. He was the father of Adrianne Heatherfield, the second little girl to go missing. His face was a blank canvas as he stared her down, his eyes distant but heavy with sadness.

Kherrington could feel the confusion coming from Optimus behind her. She inclined her head, motioning for him to join Ironhide so that she could talk to the grieving father without too many faces gawking at them. She sighed inwardly, dreading the heartache that the man was going through.

She knew he wanted answers, but she just didn't have any.

Optimus stepped passed her, walking to stand next to Ironhide's desk. He watched as Kherrington continued on passed his subordinates temporary desk and continued on towards her own, the anxiety levels jumping to almost astronomical levels.

Kherrington turned her head and nodded to Optimus in silent thanks, before looking at Mr Heatherfield, a compassionate look crossing her face. "Mr Heatherfield –" she managed to say before the other mans fist came flying out of nowhere and connected with her cheek.

She fell to the ground, holding her injured face, watching as Agent Hide restrained the suddenly raging man from attacking her further. She dazedly wondered how the muscular man had gotten passed all the table so fast. A warm arm slid around the back of her shoulders, helping her up from the floor as Mr Heatherfield started spitting and cursing.

The entire bullpen flooded with uniformed officers and Detectives, helping to restrain the irate man before he could break free from Ironhide's vice-like grip.

"_You let that sick son-of-a-bitch take another girl!_" he seethed, his face rapidly turning purple from his anger. "_How many innocent lives are you going to let him take before you finally get off your ass and do something about him?_" he continued to scream and cuss her out even as he was dragged away from several men, including Ironhide.

Kherrington blinked back sudden tears, the lump from earlier in the day rising with a vengeance. Her cheek throbbed in time with her thundering heart, but it was something that she could deal with. Mr Heatherfields accusations on the other hand were rapidly making her second-guess herself on so many levels.

"Detective?" Optimus asked softly, his arm still around her shoulders, "Are you alright?" he could see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes before she roughly pushed him off of her and stormed out of the bullpen, no doubt going somewhere where she could get some peace and quiet. He frowned, watching as several officers dragged the still screaming man out from the room, Ironhide managing to extract himself from the group that were trying to wrestle the struggling man away.

Shaking his head, Optimus smiled as he spotted his Weapon's Specialists cocky grin, suddenly spotting the red haired woman from before running into the large room, a panicked look on her face. "Detective Casey?" he asked, watching as the woman struggled to catch her breath.

The woman took a deep breath, her green eyes shining. "Where's Kerry?" she asked, leaning against the table and sending a large pile of documents to the floor. She grumbled darkly, scooping up the scattered crime scene photos and shoving them back into the manila folder they came from, and all but dumping it unceremoniously onto the table it had come from.

The woman in question reappeared in the room, carrying a small icepack against her red, swollen cheek. "I'm right here." She snapped, her brown eyes flashing. "If it's not about the case, I don't want to hear it."

Optimus blinked. He never really expected Kherrington to be snappish, but then again, he could also tell that she was very quickly reaching the end of her tether.

Angela straightened up, her green eyes wide. Ironhide appeared behind her, arms crossed over his chest. "The coroner's found something. He wants us down there ASAP."


	3. 03: Evidence

_**03: Evidence**_

_**x**_

_**x**_

_**x**_

A large, black, GMC Topkick was not something that Kherrington would have expected the FBI to drive around in. The monster truck stood menacingly in the police parking lot out back, protected from the elements by the high cement brick walls on either side of the wide space and tall office buildings behind them. It gleamed in the weak lamp light found in the centre of the lot, making it both stand out amongst the white-and-black cruisers that made up the vehicles that were parked on either side of the behemoth, and to hide it in the dark shadows beyond it.

She heard Angela suck in a deep breath behind her, no doubt her green eyes wide with delight. The woman always did like big cars.

Hiding the tired smile, Kherrington waited patiently as Agent Hide walked behind them, talking in a low voice to his partner. She frowned, refusing to ask him to hurry up because it was absolutely freezing outside and they were on a deadline. Her breath appeared in grey-white puffs in front of her face; she could already feel her nose tingling and knew that it and her cheeks were starting to turn pink in the elements.

Stopping at the side of the truck, she inspected the vehicle with a surreptitious eye. It was all black and highly looked after, if the wax and polish was anything to go by. It looked like it hadn't even been driven properly. Wasn't it supposed to be some kind of manual labour truck? She shook her head, not really caring about its function. '_If it got me to Point A, then Point B and back, that's all that matters._' She thought, thinking of her own little car which her team lovingly called a Miracle on Wheels due to its age and how it decrepit it looked.

By now the two men had finally joined them and she watched as Hide unlocked the doors for the four of them. He climbed into the front drivers side seat, shooting Optimus a glare before shutting the door and starting the engine.

"Shotgun!" Angela exclaimed excitedly, even as Kherrington made to open the front passenger door. The older, taller woman grinned and gently pushed Kherrington out of the way before opening the door swiftly and disappearing into the confines of the car, leaving her team leader to stare in bewilderment at what had just happened.

"Are you coming?" Optimus asked from the other side of the truck, his door already open and with one long leg ready to haul him inside.

Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath about middle-aged Irish women acting like four-year-olds. Turning to the back, she opened her door and got in, shutting the door a little bit more forcefully than she should have.

"Watch the paint!" Hide hissed, whipping around in his seat and pinning her with a heated glare.

"Ironhide." Optimus said warningly, his deep voice almost echoing in the cab of the truck.

Angela turned in her chair, looking between Optimus and Hide. "Ironhide?" she asked, a small smirk on her face.

Kherrington watched as what she could only describe as an '_oh shit_' look came across Optimus' face. He glanced quickly to his partner, his blue eyes going glazed for a split second before he smiled sheepishly.

"It is a nick name that we all call Hide by." He said, the explanation perfectly plausible.

It didn't stop the down-right devious smirk appearing on Angela's face. "Is that because he's the epitome of a hard ass?" she asked innocently enough, earning a glower from Hide and a chuckle from Optimus.

Kherrington blinked, picking her jaw up from the floor of the cab and openly grinned. "I can't believe you just said that." She muttered, shaking her head as she reached for the seat belt and buckled herself in. Optimus was still chuckling as he did the same, and no amount of glaring from 'Ironhide' was getting the victorious smirk off of Angela's face.

The red head turned and stuck out her tongue out at the brunette sitting behind her, green eyes flashing calculatingly. "It's just my Irish heritage, honey."

"How old are you again?" Kherrington retorted, an eyebrow disappearing behind her fringe.

"Kerry, a woman doesn't reveal her age in front of men."

"That's good, 'cause I could have sworn that you were no older than five-year-old." Ironhide muttered darkly, pulling out from the parking lot and making his way into the New York traffic. He ignored the shocked look on Angela's face, but couldn't help the smirk when Kherrington started laughing almost uncontrollably in the back seat.

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

Pacing angrily across the carrier's vast cargo hold, Ratchet stopped what he was doing and lost himself in thought. He was in his holoform, not having the space to transform into his bipedal mode or risk bringing the carrier down with his pacing; he appeared outwardly to be only in his late thirties, early forties. With dark brunette hair that was greying at the temples, he looked like the embodiment of what a doctor should look like: intelligent blue eyes, polished shoes hidden beneath dark-blue dress pants and a white, button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

Or at least, that was what popular opinion believed him to look like.

As a medic, he knew that the situation that they had suddenly found themselves thrust into was not without its harmful effects. Mentally and psychologically speaking, they were all very unprepared for little Annabelle's kidnapping, and what was worse, Optimus and Ironhide just _had_ to pose as humans to get to her through the proper channels.

That didn't mean that they still couldn't search for her in their own ways.

Before leaving with the female detective, Optimus had comm.-ed Ratchet and several other Autobots in the hopes of widening their search. Being called in from Diego Garcia was no short order, but when he and the others had heard of Annabelle's kidnapping (by a deranged _human_ no less) almost every single personnel, both Autobot and human alike, had volunteered to search the entirety of New York with nothing less than a fine-toothed comb.

Or even evacuate the entire city if it got that desperate.

Suffice to say, only a select few were ordered with the task of helping the mainland Autobots. He, Chromia, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker boarded the next plane leaving the island, their thoughts with their comrades who were patrolling the city with their numbers too far stretched to do that much good.

Standing in the hold, somewhere over the Indian Ocean still, Ratchet hadn't felt so useless in such a long while. Somewhere in New York City, Annabelle Lennox was possibly being brutalised by a sick and depraved _human_ that was no better than a Decepticon himself, while he and the rest of his team was travelling at a snail's pace (although his processor chose that moment to point out that they were actually travelling hundreds of miles an hour, rather than the three inches or so that a snail would travel in that same time period).

Running a hand angrily through his hair, he desperately wished he had something to throw, but he had left all of his wrenches back at Diego Garcia in the suddenness of the trip.

It didn't help to ease his anger when a flash indicated that several other holoforms had joined him.

Chromia leaned against her triple form motorcycle, her holoform looking no older than thirty human years old. She had long black hair, hanging straight down her back and over the tight purple and white leather motorcycle outfit she wore. Had she been human, the outfit would do nothing to help her if she got into an accident, but the flesh that covered her was nothing more than cosmetic and fake. She had chosen to go for a slightly Asian appearance, shorter than him by an inch or so, making her nearly five-foot-eleven-inches tall. Her grey-blue eyes were oval shaped and slanted at the corners, but it didn't detract from her obvious exoticness.

Beside her were the twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, having finally been reunited two months after the Incident in Egypt. As holoforms, they had chosen to look like they were in their late teens, pushing early twenties. As twins, they looked almost exactly alike, except that Sunstreaker had long blond hair tied into a pony-tail at the back of his neck and Sideswipe had his hair cut short. Both looked like they had just stepped out from the front covers of a fashion magazine, one dressed formally and the other dressed in a formal-slash-casual style.

Ratchet remembered Mikaela describing Sunstreaker as a less muscular version of Fabio and that he also tended to keep his shirt on a lot more. After googling what she had meant, Ratchet couldn't help but agree to his pupil's description.

Sunstreaker, as vain as a bot could ever get, wore tight black jeans Sam had once described as emasculating to the male population, a white muscle tee-shirt and a dark navy blazer with the Autobot designation emblazoned in red on the lapel. On Sunstreaker, he had seen the effect that the articles of clothing could do on the _female_ population of the base, even going so far as having to ban Sunstreaker from using such fashions when in his holoform on base because he was sick of treating the human females for concussions and broken noses after taking one look at the vain mech and walking into something.

Sideswipe was only slightly better than his brother, choosing blue jeans, a white printed tee-shirt and (after googling the brand) black Chuck-Taylor high tops. That didn't mean the mech didn't get his fair share of head-turning looks from the human females as well.

"What is that human saying I hear Sarah keep saying? _'A watched pot never boils'_?" Chromia asked airily, one hand unfolding gracefully and waving in the air. She raised one eyebrow at him, a universal gesture that meant trying to get a rise out of him.

He turned his back on her, a snarl threatening to make its way passed his throat. He was in no mood for human metaphors, too angry to even bother understanding its meaning. "Chromia, I am not in the mood for what you have to say."

The femme rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of her purple motorcycle components behind her. "Hatchet, calm down." She sighed, glancing to the twins who stared uncertainly at the medic. "I'm just saying that pacing isn't doing anyone any good."

Sunstreaker snorted, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, Sideswipe elbowed him in the ribs, earning a dark glare from his twin. "At least he isn't shooting things like a certain mech I know."

Sideswipe gulped audibly, blinking in Chormia's direction and shrinking back at her suddenly heated glare. He took a step away from his brother, holding his hands up infront of him in supplication. "Hey, he said it, not me."

The femme glared at Sunstreaker, her blue eyes flashing. "You know better than anyone that my mate is not the only one to shoot first and ask questions later." She snarled at him, taking a step forwards threateningly.

"Enough!" Ratchet barked suddenly, taking a deep cleansing breath (that Mikaela had insisted on teaching him to help him calm down) and closing his eyes. When he opened them again a second later, he pinned the three Autobots infront of him with a withering glare, almost daring them to interrupt him. "If it wouldn't cause damage to the plane, I would weld your afts to the landing wheels of this air craft to ensure that your paintjobs are irreparable in a nanosecond!" this threat caused the famously vain twins to squeak indignantly, and Chromia to roll her eyes once more.

"Are you done?" she asked casually, folding her arms over her chest.

Ratchet huffed, glaring one last time at her before turning around. He sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over his eyes in a sign of his frustration. Some gestures were just universal.

It was going to be a long flight.

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

Optimus glanced at Kherrington from the corner of his eyes, watching casually as she flipped through a manila folder and frowning every now and then. He noticed the slight quirk of her eye brow when she was thinking about something hard, her brown coloured eyes almost seeming to bore in to the paper that she held tightly in her hands.

It was quiet in Ironhide's cab, everyone opting to think separately about the case before adding their two-cents worth for later. The traffic on either side of them moved by sluggishly, indicative of the late traffic heading out of the city. It was New York City after all.

He could feel Ironhide start to grow impatient, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his Weapon's Specialist literally exploded. The events of the past few hours were only a ticking time bomb that he and the rest of the Autobots were sitting on, and the longer that Annabelle was kept from them, the larger the explosion would be.

A sudden ringtone jarred the silence in the cab and all heads whipped to Kherrington, watching as the woman sighed almost dejectedly and pulled out her cell phone, cutting off the opening lines of _Vanilla Twilight_ from Owl City (one of Mikaela's favourite songs of the moment actually) with a casual swipe of her finger. She put the device to her ear, cradling it in the crook of her neck and her shoulder, using her free hands to keep flicking through the folder she had dropped in her lap two seconds earlier.

Ironhide turned back to face the road, biting back a curse when a tiny blue Prius literally jumped into the gap left infront of him from his momentary distraction. Angela giggled from her seat, a mean glint in her eyes.

Kherrington sighed audibly, slowing closing the folder in her hands and taking hold of the phone. "I'm sorry, honey. I can't make it home for dinner tonight. Something's come up."

Next to her Optimus pretended not to notice, although he was intrigued. Against his better judgment, he leaned back into the leather upholstery that made up Ironhide's interior and closed his eyes. He focused on the wavelengths in the air until he found the right one that sat next to him; he was listening in on Kherrington's phone call.

"_But you said you'd be home tonight!"_ a little girl protested, sounding disappointed.

Hiding his sudden shock, Optimus quickly accessed Kherrington's personal files, looking to see if perhaps the twenty-five-year-old woman sitting next to him had a child. There was nothing to suggest her giving birth to a sparkling (_baby_, he corrected himself. Sarah was always telling him the correct terms for such things) but what really struck him was the previous address that she used to live in nearly four years ago: _**Mission City**__._

"I know what I said, Emily, but I have a very important job. You know that sweetie. I'm sorry I have to miss out on the dinner that you made, but I'm sure that I can eat some of it later if you put it in the fridge." Kherrington murmured, running one of her now free hands over her face. She noticed Optimus leaning almost regally against the black leather of the seats, his eyes closed peacefully.

There was silence on the other end of the line before she heard a shaky breath. "_Amy didn't let me turn the TV on_." Came a small voice, almost afraid, "_Another little girl_?" she asked.

Even though she knew the little girl couldn't see her, Kherrington nodded her head anyway. "Yes. That's why I won't be home for a while." She sighed, clenching her teeth with her sudden anger. "I want you to put your sister on the phone."

"_Um, Aunty Kay,_ _it's Thursday night; Amy has dance classes_."

"Damnit!" Kherrington hissed, almost slapping herself when she heard the little girl giggling over the other end of the line. "Ignore that last remark, Emily Patricia Drake." She scolded, but couldn't keep the smile off of her face, let alone her voice. "Alright. You listen to whatever it is your sister says and make sure everything is locked. No windows are to be opened, the deadbolt is to be thrown the minute your sister walks through the front door. If she doesn't set foot inside by eleven, you call me and then go directly to Mrs. Mendoza's place."

The little girl sighed audibly. "_I know Aunty Kay. You say the same things every week._"

Kherrington opened her mouth to reply, only to swallow her words. What her niece had said was all too true. She barely spent weeknights at home anymore, (granted, now more-so than any other case she had been put on) and it was only with the words that her niece had so eloquently said that made her open her eyes to see just how much she was missing out on her family. "I'm sorry, Emily." She whispered, turning her head and glancing out the window, noticing belatedly that they were about to turn into the underground parking-lot of the morgue.

Straightening up as the car descended underground, she sighed quietly, slowly slipping on her professional mask. "Emily, I need to go now, but we'll talk about this properly when I get home."

"_Whenever you get home_." The little girl mumbled quietly.

"Emily!" Kherrington hissed, her eyes flashing angrily. "You and I are going to have a nice chat when I get home."

"_Yea, whatever."_ And with that the little girl hung up her end of the phone line.

Optimus opened his eyes, watching as Kherrington stared down at the phone in her hands with an incredulous look on her face. "Is something the matter, Detective?" he asked quietly, unbuckling his belt when Ironhide parked close to the elevators.

Angela turned in her seat, a frown on her face. "Emily's going through a phase isn't she?" she asked almost flippantly.

"She hung up on me!" Kherrington breathed, angrily shoving the phone into a pocket of her leather jacket and unbuckling her seatbelt. She threw her door open, ignoring Ironhide's angry shouts but closed it a little bit more gently, before striding towards the elevators and angrily pushing the button that would bring the contraption down. She glanced behind her, watching as Angela, Ironhide and Optimus followed after her.

Angela came to stand beside her, a small frown on her face. "It's okay, Kerry." She murmured, so as not to let the men over-hear her, "She's ten-years-old – granted, a very mature ten-year-old girl – but a little girl nonetheless. She's going to go through phases where the two of you won't see eye-to-eye, and that's normal. It's going to be okay."

The scuffed silver doors opened before them, and they all walked into the spacious interior. Kherrington reached over and pressed the button for the morgue and watched detachedly as the door closed in front of her. She was still angry, both at her niece and the case, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself, couldn't help but wish that some things were just different.

She wished that her brother was still alive.

"I heard from Detective Hale that your team was on a case related to this one earlier today." Optimus said suddenly, breaking the heavy silence that had enveloped the four of them as they made their way slowly up.

Kherrington jumped slightly, so lost in thoughts and regrets. It took her a moment to process his question before nodding slowly. "Yes. We had an informant approach us several days ago about some possible leads." She said slowly as the elevator came to a slow halt and the doors opened, leading them out into a grey corridor that had seen better days.

"Hale said he had been murdered before you could get any information." Ironhide said gruffly, arms folded over his chest. "Why didn't you investigate earlier?"

An angry frown slitted over Angela's face, her green eyes sparkling. "Because our Captain is a money-hungry low-life who cares more about how much he's supposed to be spending on a case, and all the ways in which he can undercut the rest of us." She ground out, following Ironhide's example and folding her arms over her chest.

They walked in silence down the corridor, following Kherrington's lead. They all lapsed into silence once more, the only sound around them of the fluorescent lights flickering above them. They turned a corner and walked through a set of recently-painted-brown double-doors, and arrived in a waiting room of sorts.

In front of them was a wall of windows, stretching from hip-height, to the ceiling. To their backs were several brown plastic chairs and a low coffee table piled with magazines that has seen better days. The colour scheme of the room left a lot to be desired for, unless people liked the shades of mustard yellow walls, off-white ceiling and brown pieces of furniture scattered around.

Beyond the wall of windows was another room, this one more modern – well, as modern as the city's budget could allow. Stainless steel slabs were scattered around the room – six in all – and on every one of them, lay a body that had once been alive. Sterile white sheets had been placed over them, leaving only their heads (or in one case, whatever was left of the head) visible.

A door off to the side of the room that they were standing in, opened and a short man in blue scrubs entered, a frown appearing on his face as he noticed the two new men standing with Kherrington and Angela.

"What have you found, Tony?" Angela asked.

Medical Examiner Tony Giovanni did not like to be the bearer of bad news, but in his line of work, he did it almost every day. When Kherrington had approached him initially about the case that she had been working on, he never would have expected it to come with so much public attention and therefore increase his workload by more than eighty-percent. He had painstakingly gathered the evidence that was needed, going above and beyond the normal procedures by including anything that he had deemed suspicious. They still hadn't found anything worth-while.

Until now.

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

It was late and Sam still couldn't sleep.

There was too much running through his mind at the moment for it to simply stop and relax.

How _could_ he relax when he knew that Annabelle was in danger from a sick psychopath who got his kicks from kidnapping little girls? How could he calm down when he knew how much Sarah and Will and everyone else was hurting?

He didn't even want to think about what would happen tomorrow.

"Sam, you need to sleep." Mikaela's quiet voice made him jump.

The young man turned around, staring almost dumbly at the woman that had stolen his heart. She stood in the open doorway of their bedroom, wearing a white nightdress that came slightly higher than mid-thigh. Her dark hair was tousled from tossing and turning in bed, her eyes glazed with the need for sleep.

He knew that she felt guilty, felt horrible for not being able to help out in finding Annabelle. He knew that she wished she could have stayed or taken Annabelle with her back to the hotel.

"I know," he replied in a quiet voice, opening his arms and smiling tiredly when she walked the small distance between them and wrapped her own arms around him, returning his embrace. He sighed, burying his face in her hair and just breathing her in.

They stood there in silence, he didn't know how long for, but he continued to stare out the window, watching the city – still so full of life – as it kept buzzing and moving below them. He wished he was out there with Bumblebee, searching the city for any sign of the little girl that had stolen the hearts of everyone that she had met, wishing that he at least had the skills like Maggie and Glen to search for her on the net.

"What's going to happen at the UN tomorrow?"

The question was at once unexpected, and yet predicted.

With Optimus and Ironhide running around the city for Annabelle, that left only Keller, and himself (he seriously doubted Will would want to be in a roomful of angry national delegates. That was just asking for an international incident) to face the wolves at the United Nations.

It was a guilty and callous thought, but Annabelle's kidnapping couldn't have come at a worse time.

The whole reason that they were in New York City anyway, was to hold peace talks with members of the United Nations. After the events of Egypt, the world was slowly becoming aware of the existence of the Autobots and Decepticons. Countries were blaming one another and pointing fingers, vicious accusations just alluding to decade-old tensions coming to a boil.

The President of the United States and Optimus had deemed it necessary to reveal the existence of the Autobots and NEST, all in hopes of avoiding a possible Third World War. With the decision to un-cover the cover-ups and unravel the lies, both leaders had made the choice to set up a meeting with the United Nations and go from there.

That had been nearly three weeks ago with the meeting finally made today.

Sam let out a tired sigh, his shoulders sagging. He was tired and confused, and so many other emotions that he simply didn't have the energy to identify at the moment. He wasn't good at politics, not understanding why it was him that needed to speak on behalf of the Autobots when Will or Keller would have been better for the job, but since Egypt (and that rather nasty world-wide man-hunt for him that had only just recently been 'swept under the rug' so to speak), the stress had just been mounting.

"Optimus is playing pretend with the Detectives and Will is in no condition to go to the UN tomorrow, so it looks like it's just going to be me and Keller." Sam mumbled into Mikaela's hair, burying his nose as far into the silky texture as he could.

Mikaela nodded into Sam's chest. "I heard Epps say that Will believes it could be one of the diplomats that took Annabelle to use as a bargaining chip so that the Autobots would work exclusively for them for her safe return." She said quietly, a frown marring her face. "Do you think they could have done something like this and make it look like the Baby Doll Killer, just to throw us off their trail?"

That stopped Sam in his tracks. He had never really thought about it that way.

Could one of the countries really be able to kidnap Annabelle and black-mail the Autobots into inevitably be slaves to them? The thought was far-fetched, and yet it stood to reason that it could very well be a possibility. From what Arcee had told them, the BD killer had a system that he would dump the body of his latest victim then wait several days before taking another little girl.

Except that Annabelle had been taken within the waiting time of several days.

Frowning himself, Sam held her tighter to himself. "I don't know, 'Kayla." He said in a whisper, his heart aching for his friends. "All I do know it that if Annabelle is harmed in any way, if it's a country or this freak, they're gonna be dealing with some very angry robots and humans that will stop at nothing to get revenge."

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

"Your boy was killed by the same guy that all of New York City want dead."

Kherrington started, her head snapping up from the open file that she held in her hands.

They had been in the morgue for several minutes, and in that time, Tony had handed Kherrington and Angela a manila folder containing his coroners report on the deceased, Joe Calzone. Ironhide stood behind Angela trying in vain to read the report over her shoulder, while Optimus stood beside Kherrington, quietly waiting for her to finish and hand it over to him.

"Calzone was killed by BD?" Angela asked, her green eyes wide.

Tony nodded his head and moved over to one of the metal slabs. He reached for the white sheet and pulled it back, revealing the dead body of a Caucasian male in his late- to mid-thirties. His black hair was curly and left long, pooling under his head on the table. "I found the same traces of tranquiliser in what was left of his blood."

Optimus frowned. "But no embalming fluid?" he asked, gaining the attention Tony's attention.

Kherrington shut the file and handed it mindlessly to Optimus. She went around the table, lifting up the sheet at his feet and looking at his legs. Sure enough, twin puncture wounds – both the diameter of a penny – decorated Calzone's upper thighs in indication of where his femoral arteries would be. She replaced the sheet and looked at his uncovered upper body. She reached over to the box of medical gloves and quickly pulled on a pair before placing her hands on the body's left arm and moving it. An eyebrow shot up, and she looked up at Tony. "Rigor mortis is _just_ setting in?" she asked, continuing to turn the arm and spotting the same puncture wound: his brachial artery had been pierced.

Tony nodded to Kherrington's question. "He's been dead a little over six hours."

"_All_ of his major arteries have been punctured." Angela muttered, looking up from her file and shifting so that Ironhide had to crane over her shoulder to see. She scowled at him, and closed the file.

Kherrington straightened up. "That's overkill, Tony." She frowned, running a hand angrily through her hair. She closed her eyes and sighed before taking the gloves off and chucking them in the medical bin besides the metal slab. "You said it was BD that got to Calzone. So far I'm not seeing the evidence."

Tony grinned all of a sudden. "Your killer was careless." He said excitedly, throwing the sheet haphazardly over the dead body and hurrying over to a small lab set up in a corner of the room, half-hidden away by medical screens.

Optimus turned to Kherrington and noted her baffled expression. "I take it that his present behaviour is very out-of-character."

A small smile appeared on her face and she nodded her head. "Very out-of-character." She turned and looked him, her smile widening. "Tony only gets this excited when he's found out something _very_ good, and I've only seen that happening once." She pointedly indicated to Angela with her head, watching as the red head and Ironhide fought over the file.

Angela suddenly stopped, looking at her boss with calculating eyes. "You are never going to let me live that down, are you?" she sighed angrily, folding her arms over her chest. She shoved the file into Ironhide's chest, ignoring his angry retort.

Kherrington had a grin on her face that made her look as if she were the cat who had eaten the canary. "Never." She replied simply, turning to look at Tony as he came back around the corner with several folders in his hands.

Coming to a sudden stop in front of Kherrington, Tony shoved the files into her arms, ignoring her exclamation of his name, and then turned around again. He reappeared a second later with a see-through evidence bag with what appeared to be a square cut of some dark coloured fabric. His grey eyes were dancing with delight as he held the evidence up. "This was found on your guy Calzone."

Kherrington lifted an eyebrow. "Point, Tony?" she asked suddenly.

Tony's smile became even brighter, his eyes virtually twinkling. "It's the _exact_ same fibres as those on the girls." He announced, watching as understanding alighted both Angela's and Kherrington's faces only to quickly disappear.

A frown creased the space between Optimus' eyebrows. "The fabric for the dresses that the little girls were wearing?" he asked, receiving a nod in return. "I thought you investigated the manufacturers only to hit a dead end."

Angela turned to Tony. "We did. The company that uses these types of cotton fibres and dyes are very popular amongst people who work in the textile industry. It's a non-commercial company that makes the bolts of cloth, so you can find it in any craft store within the city and apparently three states." She sighed, shaking her head.

Kherrington was ignoring the talk that was going on around her, focusing instead on one of the folders that Tony had given her. A glint came to her eyes suddenly and she looked up, quickly catching on to what the ME had discovered. "Unless he knew the killer personally." She said, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. She handed over the folder she was reading to Optimus, pointing to several photos of the crime scene. "The cloth is part of his shirt, see?" she said, moving close to his side and indicating to a snapshot that showed Calzone, surrounded by his own blood on his living room floor. He was wearing a dark shirt that had been soaked with his life-blood, but the angle of the shot made it difficult to see the lower portion of his body.

"He was wearing a custom made shirt?" Angela asked, moving quickly to Optimus' other side and looking at the photo.

The smile that had appeared on Kherrington's face dissolved and she moved away from Optimus, a hand cupping her chin in thought. "Unless you can tell me that the stitching is the exact same on the shirt as it is the dresses, then we don't have a connection."

It was Tony's turn to look like the cat with the canary as he folded his arms over his chest. "I've already sent the lab work up and the results should be with you soon." He said smugly. "But if you want my opinion, the stitching matches up almost perfectly so you're looking at the same guy."

Ironhide grinned maliciously, cracking his knuckles as if preparing for a fight. "One step closer to finding the slag-head."

Angela, Tony and Kherrington gave Ironhide a strange look to which he grunted indifferently. Optimus shook his head and smiled softly, the dimple in his cheek flashing. He closed the file in his hands and tucked it under his arms, already mentally processing what he had just read and sorting it into relevant files. Almost as if there was some unspoken cue, everyone turned to leave, nodding their goodbyes to Tony.

They left the cold, sterile morgue and started to make their way towards the elevators when the sounds of running had them turning around in time to see Tony skid to a stop in front of Kherrington. "Kerry!" he huffed, completely missing the chesire grin on Angela's face and the exasperated expression on Kherrington's.

"Yes, Tony?" she sighed, waving with her hand absentmindedly for the others to move on ahead. She caught the look and Angela's face and rolled her eyes, ignoring the silent laughter coming from the older woman as she moved on forward.

Optimus and Ironhide watched with a confused expression as they were gently pushed down the hall by Angela, and as they turned the corner, they lost sight of Kherrington completely.

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

Tony stood almost nervously in front of the slightly taller woman, his breath still coming in pants from his sudden run. "You never returned my phone calls." He said suddenly, standing up as straight as he could.

Kherrington looked away awkwardly, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip. It was a nervous habit that she had picked up from her nieces , something that she hated doing but never realised until after the fact. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about that Tony." She mumbled, glancing at her watch. "Now's not really a good time to be talking about this, so..."

The man in front of her frowned. "It's never a good time for you. It's always work or something about family." He sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "Don't you do anything for yourself?"

Blinking at the question, Kherrington looked up at Tony. She could see how stressed he was – the life of an ME wasn't very gratifying – and as a friend, wanted to do something about it, but she knew that what he was talking about was something that she didn't want to acknowledge. They had already tried the dating thing, but it hadn't worked out: she didn't feel that connection that he so obviously felt for her, and so she had reverted to just 'being friends', whereas he wanted something more. It had been a point of contention between the two for a while now, and Kherrington would not back down on the subject.

"Tony," she said firmly, her hands clenching at her sides, "now is most definitely not the right time to be talking about this. A little girl is missing, the FBI has taken over my case, and my nieces are pissed off at me. I don't have the time, nor the patients to tell you yet again that I don't feel the same way that you do about me, so let's drop it and bury the hatchet, _please_."

Tony reared back, almost as if he had been slapped. He knew that Kherrington didn't have feelings for him, but he thought that if he pushed the issue, she would at lease analyse her emotions and try to attempt a more permanent relationship with him. He had said that he had strong feelings for her, but he wanted to explore them with her, rather than from afar. All this beating around the bush was frustrating him to no end and her answer was not something that he wanted to hear. "_Fine_." He hissed, narrowing his eyes, "But don't blame me when you realise that everyone around you is having a happy life with their partners and you're all alone." He turned around and stormed off, knowing that he was acting irrationally, but not caring in the least.

Kherrington stood there in the hall, watching as he walked away. Affronted, she turned and continued on her way to the elevators, trying to ignore the slight stabbing pain that had been brought on by his words. He was half correct in the fact that most of the people that she knew had loving and caring partners. She couldn't even remember the last time she had been on a proper date, let alone in a relationship with mutual feelings.

She turned the corner and met up with Angela, Optimus and Ironhide, purposefully overlooking the strange glances that they kept shooting her. As they neared the elevator doors, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, quickly followed by the opening lines of the _Glee_ version of Bohemian Rhapsody. Digging the device out, she swiped her finger over the screen and placed it by her ear. "Drake." She stated simply, listening to the person on the other end of the line.

Angela stepped passed her and pressed the button to bring the lift down to their level. Ironhide and Optimus stood almost awkwardly behind Kherrington, watching the younger woman as she spoke on the phone.

"We'll be there in ten minutes." Kherrington said suddenly, a calculating smile appearing on her face. "We have a lead." She grinned, walking into the open elevator doors and turning to the others as they followed her.

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

_To Be Continued..._

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_**A/N**_: I'm not too happy with this chapter, but it's as good as it's ever going to get. I also apologise for the lateness in updating this, but life got in the way. I challenge anyone to look after 16 toddlers (ages between 1 ½ to 3 years old) close to nine hours a day, five days a week and not be tired to the point of passing out. Plus on top of that, other life-stuff.

Next chapter will see some action in the form of a suspect being brought in, more of Kherrington's background, a new lead, some political gambits at the UN and some Annabelle! Yay! Hopefully I'll be able to post within the next week but I'm getting an operation done on Wednesday to remove a wisdom tooth. Joy (note the sarcasm).

But then again... _**REVIEWS**_ help me to update faster...


	4. 04: Suspect

_**04: Suspect**_

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_**x**_

At the tender age of twelve, Michael Hale learned that there was always something more than met the eye, whether it be a secret that someone kept hidden, or a truth that was kept secreted away from prying eyes. How he had learned this lesson, was when he walked in on his mother and his Uncle Clive doing the horizontal tango in his father's study.

He kept learning and relearning this lesson throughout life: his father's alcoholism that his mother had lied about, and then the true paternity of his now-ten-year-old daughter.

It was this life-lesson that caused his gut to tell him that something about the two FBI guys wasn't right. There was something infinitesimally off about them that got under his skin; it was an itch that he just had to scratch and he knew just the right guy to help him.

Mike took a deep breath before he disappeared down the dark alley, a hand hidden under his coat and resting on the cold handle of his Beretta Px4 Storm. He waited in the darkness as his eyes adjusted to the change in light, his conscience berating him for being _here_, instead of at the crime scene that he was supposed to be processing with his partner Posner. He ruthlessly shoved the thought away and continued down the alley, his heart beating like a drum in his chest.

Walking soundlessly down the dirty refuse-riddled lane, he came upon a black-painted door and stopped, his mind still warring with his conscience. The decision was taken out of his hands when the door suddenly opened in front of him and he stiffened, watching the portly man eye him carefully.

The man that stood in the door way was of African-American descent with a bald head and black-haired goatee. He wore a pale blue shirt that stretched over his chest and old black jeans with a rip in one of the knees. He wasn't wearing any shoes. "What can I do for you, Detective?" he asked after a few tense seconds of silence, his voice hoarse, evidence of his addiction to smoking.

Mike knew that there was no turning back now, furiously ignoring the little voice in his head to stop what he was about to do. "I need some information on some people." He said in a low voice, glancing quickly up and down the alley.

The man raised a brow before nodding and turning to go back inside, leaving the door open for Mike as an invitation to follow him inside. "I need the info ASAP, Whitman." Mike said, keeping his voice low so as not to upset the man's Grandmother.

"I don't suppose you have names to supply." The man asked dryly, opening a door to his left and leading Mike into a high-tech haven that he knew would make the lab-techs back at the Precinct wet themselves in delight.

Glancing over his shoulder for the last time, Mike took a deep breath and followed the man inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

_**x**_

_**x**_

_**x**_

The ride back to the precinct was made in relative silence. What had originally taken them close to an hour to get from one end of the city to the other, took just under twenty minutes (even though Kherrington had promised ten minutes) on the return trip due to the lighter traffic.

Kherrington had received a phone call from one of her nieces saying that they had returned safely and well before the end of their curfew. This had put the woman in a slightly better mood, except for her second phone call not two minutes after the first.

"What do you mean 'he left in the middle of an investigation'?" she hissed, earning looks from all in the car. "And no one can contact him?"

Optimus raised a brow at her, something that he had learned from Will. He looked at Kherrington, but was ignored.

Not long after, Kherrington had hung up and a fuming silence descended in Ironhide's cab. The woman was clearly in a foul mood, as evidenced by her dark glares out the window and her arms folded tightly over her chest.

The rest of the ride was spent in rising tension, some innate instincts warning them all not to set the fiery woman off.

Before long, they were striding into the Homicide Bullpen, dodging uniformed offers and incarcerated felons as they made the way to their section of the cavernous room. Just as Kherrington was approaching her desk, an officer ran up to her, brandishing a manila file. Nodding and giving a small smile of thanks to the woman, she slid smoothly into her black swivel chair and opened it. Scanning the contents, she flickered her eyes briefly around the room, spying both FBI agents talking quietly amongst themselves besides Michael's desk.

Rolling her eyes, she looked back down to the folder in her hands, chocolate coloured eyes widening at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they had finally gotten the lead that they so desperately needed. "_Angela!"_ she yelled, not bothering to look up from the file as she rake her eyes over and over again at the words that had been printed on the page.

The red-haired American-born Irishwoman jogged over to her leaders desk, a frown marring her face. "What's up?" she asked off-handedly, spotting the look on Kherrington's face and leaning forwards in excitement. "We've got a lead?" she whispered, knowing that there were many detectives who would jump at the chance to be the first to know of a suspect.

"CSU managed to find a skin tag under Calzone's fingernails. They're still running the DNA through the system, but it's the best that we've got so far." She said, closing her eyes as the lump that had been lodged in her stomach since she first received this case threatened to move up to her throat. "We need this, Angela." She whispered, closing the file and leaning forwards, looking up at the older woman as she sat down at the edge of her table. "I can't stand the thought of Annabelle turning up-"

"Like the other girls?" Angela replied in her own whisper, sympathy shining in her green eyes. "I know what you're dealing with, Kherrington, don't think you're going through this alone." The woman reached out a hand and grasped Kherrington's clenched fist that had been resting on the folder. "Granted, you've got a little more weight to handle than any one else on this team," she let the statement hang between them, a heavy silence engulfing the two for several seconds before Angela straightened and stood up. "But that's what we do: we detect, we solve murders, we bring justice to the victims that can't tell us what happened to them."

"Since when did you become so poetic?"

Both women whirled around to face a grinning Michael. He stood with two coffees in his hands, holding them out as obvious peace-offerings. His eyes, Kherrington noticed, were darker than usual, wary in a way that had her subconsciously shifting in her seat. Her back became straighter, her eyes narrowing in both defence and slight anger as his earlier insubordination came to the forefront of her mind.

Pushing herself away from the table, she stood up, noticing that the two agents had moved closer to them, yet still involved in their talk. Steeling her nerve, she pulled on her strength reserves to get herself through the confrontation she (and both her subordinates) knew would come. "Just where the _hell_ have you been?" she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest.

She watched as Michael sighed, handing one of the coffees to Angela and then placing the other one on the desk in front of them. With his free hands, he pushed his left into the pocket of his dark jean, and raked the other through his hair. "I needed to check out something." He said, shrugging his shoulders. He turned his gaze away, focusing on the two FBI agents as they realised that someone had arrived. His eyes glared at them, sliding the hand that had been combing his hair into the opposite pocket of his jeans and clenching them tightly. "It wasn't important."

Staring at him, Kherrington's mind blanked out. She openly gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing softly before her mind started spinning again, anger flickering through her veins as he spoke so off-handedly about leaving his _job_ to do something that was 'wasn't important'. Half of her wanted to desperately grab him by the collar and shake him, while the other half felt nothing but betrayal. She had known Michael for years, had been trained by him and been partnered for two of those years; she _knew_ how dedicated he was to his job, knew that there was nothing besides his own little girl that could pull him away from a job.

Especially one that was this important.

To just walk away from that, to act so aloofly about _purposefully_ walking off of the job, it was something that was just _not computing_ to her.

Growling low in her throat, Kherrington unfolded her arms and clenched her fists at her sides, her brown gaze hardening to chips as Michael continued to stare down the FBI agents. "I don't have time for your _bull-shit_!" she hissed, waving her arms in her anger and knocking over the same pile of crime-scene photos that she had earlier in the night. She ignored the indignant sound that Angela had made, too focused on Michael to pay any attention. "I need reliable people working this case, Hale," she saw his flinch, knowing that she had hit a raw nerve with the way she called his last name, but he still didn't turn away, "And if I can't trust you enough to work with the people on this team, then I'm going to have to take you off the case." She said hotly, watching as he snapped his head to stare at her.

"_WHAT_?" he cried, shock draining his face of colour. "You can't do that!"

A small part of her tired mind was telling her to stop what she was doing and to give Michael a second chance, but she was just too exhausted to care. More was riding on this case than public media attention; a little girl was alone and scared in the hands of a mad-man and their time was running out to find her.

"For the love of _God_, Michael, a little girl has been kidnapped by a serial killer and you're too busy holding a _fucking_ grudge against the FBI!" she snapped, eyes flashing. All activity in the bullpen around them had stopped to stare at her, but she couldn't really care at this point in time. "Get it through your thick head! They are here to help us, not fuck everything up like it seems that I've been doing since the _beginning_ of this investigation!"

Silence descended in the room, the sounds of the world outside coming through the windows and walls as a muffled crescendo to the angry words that Kherrington had been shouting. People were openly staring at her, but she was beyond worried about the things that they would say about her, about the gossip that was sure to spread the instant that she would leave the room. She didn't care that not hours earlier, she had been vehemently against including the FBI, that she was just another hypocrite.

Michael stared at her, an empty feeling rising in his gut. The guilt from before flared up, almost consuming him, but he pushed it aside as humiliation started to tingle in his cheeks. He was forty-five for God's sake and she had belittled him in front of his co-workers, had completely tarnished his reputation in the span of two minutes. Mentally, his mind was whirling, anger a prominent feeling that threatened to show her who was boss, but he quashed it and looked her straight in the eyes. "I understand," he said through clenched teeth, throwing looks at the people around the bullpen as they openly stared. Most hurried on, pushing suspects to holding cells and interrogation rooms, or busying themselves with reports. "It won't happen again."

Kherrington blinked, the lump jumping to her throat at the obvious anger that Michael was repressing. She knew that he knew that what he did was wrong, but she also knew that there was nothing he would be sorry for; it was just the kind of man Michael was. He would admit that he was in the wrong, but he would never say sorry.

Looking at him one last time, she nodded stiffly, feeling the lump in her throat lessen slightly. She watched as Michael brushed past Optimus and Hyde who both moved away from his desk and over to her. She caught Optimus' eyes, seeing the curious and sympathetic look in them, before shaking her head slightly and turning towards her desk. She was just about to sit down when the phone on her desk started ringing loudly. Giving an inward groan, she leant over the table and snatched it up, watching curiously as Ironhide leant down to help Angela pick up the crime-scene photos that she was still picking up. "Drake." She said simply, turning her gaze to Optimus as he stood next to her desk, his blue eyes watching with a slight twinkle as Angela swatted at Ironhide's hands to stop him from picking up a photo. She listened to the technician with half an ear, her exhaustion catching up with her almost effortlessly.

As subtly as a tired woman could, Kherrington studied the man before her, noticing the way that he seemed to good to be true. Perfect posture, gorgeous face that should only belong on magazine covers; she had to admit she could understand why Michael was paranoid about the two agents, but why would two people who looked like them be masquerade as FBI agents? The thought of aliens popped into her mind then, and she nearly laughed into the phone. The idea was preposterous to say the least: why would aliens want to help find a little girl and put a serial killer behind bars? Her mind wandered slightly, tired thoughts jumbling up on top of one another. One train of thought jumped out at her, making her unconsciously screw her face up at the sheer ridiculousness of it. _Maybe Annabelle was really their human contact and they wanted her back_?

Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and shook her head. '_Sleep. I need sleep.'_ She mentally chanted, blinking when the technician in her ear sighed loudly.

"_You didn't hear a word I said, did you?_"

Groaning inwardly, Kherrington shifted in her chair, sitting up straighter and cracking her neck to wake up. "Sorry, Caitlin. Can you repeat what you said, please?"

There was another sigh heard on the other end of the line. The other woman muttered unintelligently before the sound of the phone moving registered in Kherrington's ears. "_The DNA belongs to a man by the name of Benjamin Badger. He's got a record so I emailed that to you."_

Excitement and adrenalin suddenly surged through her system, replacing her exhaustion better than three strong-black coffees would have been able to. Almost jumping over her table, she quickly switched her computer on, saying goodbye to the CSU tech while she was at it and slamming down her phone. From the corner of her eyes, she saw that she had gathered Optimus' attention, but she was too focused on logging into her email and clicking on the folder that was marked from the CSU in her inbox.

Benjamin Badger's criminal file flared to life on her flat-screen computer, revealing a pimply-faced young-man who was certainly not looking too happy for the camera. His age (in the photo) revealed him to be nineteen when it was taken, making him legally an adult for his crimes, but judging by his date-of-birth in the corner beneath his name, it stated that he was turning thirty-eight in February next year. Frowning, she quickly scrolled to the small, but rather violent, list of offenses that had managed to get him fifteen years in prison. Assault and battery had been some of his minor (as minor as they could be, considering) offenses, but what literally jumped off the page at her was what had put him in jail for longer.

Statutory rape of a minor.

Holding her breath, Kherrington quickly counted to ten in her head, her heart fluttering in her chest as the very first lead in the entire case opened up to her. "We have you now, you bastard." She whispered, looking up and meeting Optimus' eyes. She couldn't help but grin, not a normal happy smile, but something more predatory, more basic and primal. She turned sharply to Angela as the woman shifted the fallen crime scene photos into piles on her desk. "Angela, I need you to pull up anything and everything about Benjamin Badger. Parking tickets, movie rentals, anything and everything. I want to find this guy, _yesterday._" She commanded, turning back to her computer and making copies of Badger's file and sending them to the printer. "Same goes for you, Agent Prime." She stated, turning her head slightly to see the quiet man staring at her with something shining in his eyes. "I want you to search through all of your own databases for any kind of information that you can find on Badger's life: what he's done since he got out of jail, where he's been. Anything."

Optimus gave her a tired smile and nodded his head, complying and understanding what it was that she demanded of him. "We will need to return to the New York FBI Headquarters." He stated calmly, inclining with his head for Ironhide to follow him. "We will report if we find something."

Kherrington watched them go, feeling strangely lost. The adrenalin rush at finding a new lead was waning and her sudden light-headedness was not lost on Michael who had been sitting at his desk patiently, waiting for his orders.

"Go home, Drake." Michael said softly, still angry at his humiliation not ten minutes before-hand. "You're exhausted, both mentally and physically. We can handle things here while you're gone." He added.

The look on his face, combined with Angela's irritated one, made her resolve crumble, and not fifteen minutes later, she was on the road to her apartment to have what she hoped would be at least five hours of uninterrupted sleep. She didn't even remember getting home, nor even unlocking the front door, but when she came back to herself, she was standing in the doorway of her youngest nieces bedroom, watching her sleep quietly.

Her heart clenched in her chest at the thought of what if? What if it had been Emily taken? What would she have done? The thought itself caused the hole in her heart to yawn open wider.

The sudden death of her brother and sister-in-law in the Mission City terror attack had completely ruined her world, the relationship that she had had with her brother closer than many siblings she knew. Ten years her senior, Matthew Drake had taken her under his wing when he could have been and done so many other things. When she was a little girl, she remembered him telling her about his dream of being a jet pilot, but when their parents had died in a tragic accident when she was ten, Matt had dropped everything at collage to look after her and make sure she was never put in a foster home.

It had been difficult, but Lauren had helped to balance out Matt's tendency to be overbearing and helped her to become the woman she was to this day. When Kherrington had been eleven, Lauren had told her that she was pregnant and that she was going to become an aunty. She could still remember telling all her friends and teachers in school that she was going to be an aunt at such a young age.

Tender memories engulfed Kherrington as she started at the sleeping girl. Heartache was still rife, but she had had almost three years to deal with the loss of her world. In its place, she vowed to be the best parent that she hoped she could be to the two young girls that had lost their worlds too.

Blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes, Kherrington sighed and slowly shut the door to the room, glancing at the glowing hands of the clock and mumbling darkly at how late it really was. She turned on sluggish feet and headed straight to her own room, simply too tired to take a shower and all but collapsed on her bed. She barely had enough energy to kick the shoes off of her feet before curling up on her side and clutching her pillow to her, ignoring the dampness that was starting to soak on to the soft cushion.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, her mind flashed to an image of Optimus just before he left with Ironhide to return to the New York FBI building. She hadn't really noticed it before (and she didn't really understand _why_ her brain would come up with it _now_ of all times) but Optimus had seemed a little paler than when she had first met him, and as she thought about it, sweat had been dotting his temple and hair-line when there had been none before.

Groaning, she rolled over and nestled further into her blankets before surrendering herself to blissful oblivion.

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

"For the _love of Primus!_" Ironhide growled as they entered the elevator at the precinct.

Optimus gave him a withering look as the doors slid shut, his blue eyes quickly scanning the corners of the elevator and looking for cameras. Shaking his head as another wave of exhaustion raced over him, he closed his eyes, willing his holoform to keep shape for only five more minutes before he could release it.

Ironhide was glaring at his Prime was something akin to concern on his human features, his hazel-blue eyes flashing. "You know as well as I do that being this far away from your-"

"I realise the dangers that come with the transition Ironhide, but maybe now is _not the time_ to be discussing some things." Optimus ground out, opening his eyes and flicking them in an upwards motion towards the mounted cameras in the corner of the contraption they were riding in.

The old warrior opened his mouth to say something scathing but realised that what it was that he was going to say would be detrimental to everything that they were working towards. Growling low in his throat, he shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at the door, stomping out like a grumpy old man when the doors opened to reveal the open parking lot. The two of them walked in silence as they headed towards the awaiting GMC Topkick, one too tired to listen to threats and the other too angry to even say anything. The doors popped open of their own accord and they both stepped in, Ironhide glaring at his Prime still. He closed his doors sharply and released sighed tiredly when Optimus finally let his holoform evaporate into particle matter.

Ironhide still didn't understand the concept of how holoforms worked, but all he knew was that Ratchet and Wheeljack had created them and that there was a limit to holding the form.

Snorting bad-temperedly, he released his own holoform, grateful to be back in his own, true, body and pulling out from his parking spot. Mindlessly, he drove through the streets, allowing his mind to de-stress for several minutes before facing reality. Before he had realised it, he had arrived back at the hotel that they and their human contacts were staying at and pulling in to the underground garage.

The entire bottom level of the parking garage of the hotel had been booked out, making it a lot easier for them to talk, albeit not transform in fear of being squashed between the low ceiling and the concrete flooring. He spotted Optimus, nestled snugly near the emergency exit ramp and parked next to him. He secretly wondered as to how Optimus had gotten his alt. form into such a tiny space, but then thought better. It was his Prime after all, he could do anything he set him processor to.

Including holding onto a holoform that should have surely burnt out hours ago.

Revving his engine as a sign of his anger, Ironhide opened a channel to Optimus, and if he would have been in his bipedal mode, he would have rolled his optics. His Prime was in a deep recharge, something that didn't surprise him in the least, but got him bragging rights to tell his leader '_I told you so!'_ in the morning.

Turning his thoughts inward, he mentally winced at how the day had progressed, his spark clenching in fear at the thought of Annabelle kidnapped by this maniac. Even with the thought that the detectives were doing their best didn't make any difference, but now that they had gotten a lead... It left him confused beyond all logical thought.

As one of the original Autobots to land on the planet, Ironhide had thought that he would have had a basic grasp of human behaviour, but almost on a daily basis, he was witnessed to different acts and aspects of human actions that left him more bewildered than most. Granted, in a way their two species weren't completely different, like how they valued the life of a sparkling, and yet it were creatures that shared the same species like this murderer that made him angry beyond all reasoning. Yet, he couldn't help but make the comparison that some humans were very much like Decepticons, while others (like Lennox and his team) reminded him of the Autobots, fighting for a better and safer future for their families and future generations.

With Bumblebee, Arcee and Jolt still out scouring the city in hopes of at least establishing the possible where-about of where Annabelle could be kept, it only left himself and Optimus behind at their 'headquarters', so to speak. Their resources stretched thin, Ironhide couldn't help but wonder how they would get through the next few days.

A tired sigh left him as he sunk down on his axels. Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Chromia would arrive sometime during the day and then they would be better prepared. With so many things happening at once, he was slightly surprised that his processor hadn't glitched already.

But then again, he thought with a shudder, politics and diplomacy had never really been his forte.

Ratchet would be the one to deal with the diplomats at the UN, while the newer additions to the team would help the others scour the city. In the meantime, he and Optimus would be hunting down the only suspect that they had on the case.

'_And he better pray to Primus that Annabelle is still alive,_' Ironhide growled before he allowed himself to join Optimus is recharge.

_**x**_

_**x**_

_**x**_

From what she could see from the tiny crack under the door, all she could make out was a dirty concrete floor and a broken crate off to the side. Leaning back on her knees, Annabelle couldn't help but whimper and shiver in the thin cotton dress that the man had forced her in hours before.

Being only three-and-a-half years old, she hadn't grasped the concept of time yet, so to Annabelle, it felt like days since she had last seen her mother, let alone the rest of her family. She was cold, hungry, but more importantly alone.

What she didn't really understand, though, and was very confused about, was that she was _happy_ that she was alone. She knew that she was stuck in a bad situation (her parents and family had drilled it into her head that if she was with someone she or her family didn't know, then something was very _wrong_) but she just _knew_ that if the man wasn't there, then he couldn't hurt her or do anything else to her.

It didn't make her stop wishing that the man would have left her some food or a blanket.

Biting her lip to stop from crying again, Annabelle stood up, shivering when her bare feet touched the cold concrete of the floor. Looking around, she re-examined the room, the natural curiosities of a child kicking in.

With the minimal light that filtered through the massive sky-lights above her, she could just make out several boxes pushed against a far wall off to her left. Directly in front of her was the box that the mad had pulled her out from, the clothes that she had been wearing, taken by the scary man when he had left. Her shoes and socks had been taken as well.

Standing on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around herself to try and warm up, Annabelle walked around the room, stopping to examine objects in the gloom and trying to see what they could be. By the time she had inspected what little there was in the room, her teeth were chattering and she had ended up in front of the box that she had awoken in.

With nothing else to do, Annabelle decided to climb inside the box, and at least pretend that she was somewhere else other than this scary room and away from her family. Landing with a soft thump into the middle of the open wooden container, she crawled into a dark corner and curled into a ball, tucking the edges of her poufy skirt under her frozen feet and wrapping her arms around her middle. Looking up one last time to the skylight above her, Annabelle let herself cry, loud heaving sobs that made her wish for someone to hear her and answer her cries.

But before she knew it, her exhaustion had caught up with her, and she was fast asleep.

**_x_**

**_x_**

**_x_**

_To Be Continue_

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**_x_**

**AN:** Sincerest apologies for not updating this in nearly... _eight months_? Dear Primus! Life carried me away once again. Sorry. I had this chapter half-written a while ago but just never got around to finishing it. There was _supposed_ to be so much more to this chapter, but I wanted it to be a bit more laid-back (although there were some important plot-points revealed...) because the next chapter starts to pick up!

A little bit of Kherrington's past was revealed, something that I've wanted to do for a while now, and I fear I might have gotten caught up in that, if so, forgive me please. Also, the Whitman at the beginning of this chapter... Evil smile. Guess who it might be. Oh, and Optimus and Ironhide's conversation? It will be touched on in the next chapter, although the heart of the conversation won't be talked about until later when Ratchet meets up Optimus and Ironhide.

Speaking of Ratchet, there was _supposed_ to be some Doctor Minty (_serious Michael Bay!)_ in this, but he was being uncooperative, so he's sitting this one out until the next chapter. Grin. And, um, just a little warning: updates might be a bit slower (although, _dear Primus_, not as slow as the last one) because work at the moment is being crazy with Halloween coming up... And also finalising my holiday plans. One month travelling around Europe, baby! 55 days and _counting_!

_**Next Time On **_**All The Kings Horses:** Ratchet meets with Sam and Defence Secretary Keller about their thoughts on the UN situation, while Optimus and Ironhide accompany Detective Drake to apprehend the suspect. Meanwhile, Angela discovers a chilling piece key of evidence. Oh, and Michael confronts Optimus and Ironhide on who, or _what,_ they really are.

Stay tuned!


End file.
